Stars Above Our Heads
by TempeJill
Summary: Following the events of The Doctor in the Photo, Booth severely distances himself from Brennan, leaving her to feel lost and alone, without even the comfort of Angela or the other squints to help her through it all.
1. So This is Christmas

**This fic follows the events of The Doctor in the Photo by about two weeks. Hopefully this will tide all of you (as well as me) over until the return of Bones in January. This will be about seven chapters, and I hope to finish it before that next episode airs. So, here goes. Enjoy :)**

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_Chapter 1: So This is Christmas_

_December 25__th__, 2010_

The Christmas tree was glowing in the corner, casting a light golden shine on the walls. As her eyes unfocused slowly, the individual bulbs melded together, softening and expanding. She sighed and looked away, trying to not think, to focus only on the ridiculous decorations.

She had always disliked Christmas, and not for all the same reasons. For one, there was the fact that she didn't have the happy childhood memories that most of her friends seemed to about sitting on Santa's lap and trying to stay up to hear the reindeer on the roof. Mostly, she just remembered the way it had felt when Russ had stepped into the living room, his face serious, his eyes dark. The way he had said her name, thick with pain.

The way reality had crashed down on her.

And after that... well, Christmas really was a commercial holiday. It was much like Valentine's Day, where those who were most liked were most rewarded, where everything was a popularity contest.

Years and years of her life had been filled with watching other people celebrate, other people shop and gush over the presents they had bought for their loved ones, and the ones they had received in return. She had watched as boys she had liked chased after other girls with arms full of gifts and thoughtfully written Christmas cards. She had watched as her roommates in college packed up, wrapping their gifts and getting ready for the drive home for the holidays, to spend Christmas with their parents, their siblings, their cousins, their aunts and uncles and grandparents.

She had watched everyone smile and laugh and pleasure over the joys of the holidays... with everything she had never had, and never _would_ have.

Because, if she faced the facts, she'd see that she didn't fit into any of those scenes. Hell, the tree in her living room hadn't even been her idea. Angela had made her get it last year when they'd been shopping together, and this year... well, she'd just put it up. To see how it felt.

And it hadn't made things better. It hadn't made _anything_ better. It had just made her feel sick to her stomach, like a constant nagging reminder of what she was lacking.

The bottom of the tree was empty. And it had no decorations besides the built-in lights. She wondered, fleetingly, if she still had that box of things in the back of the hall closet. The one she had gathered that year after her release from the foster system when she'd made her way back to the house—finding it run down and abandoned—and salvaged what she could. But she had no intent of putting any of them up. If just a tree with barely any memories attached to it hurt to look at... she didn't want to imagine how decorations that had been on the tree in _that_ living room, on _that_ day, would affect her.

Booth was spending Christmas with Hannah.

She had no idea if they had Parker or not, because, well, Booth hadn't mentioned it to her. Usually, he spent every year in the month or so before Christmas either eagerly explaining what he had planned for him and his son... or complaining about how he didn't get to see him.

This year, though, she'd heard none of it.

Assumably, he had replaced that listening ear she had always provided with Hannah's.

Which shouldn't have shocked her. None of this should have shocked her. Hannah was Booth's girlfriend. They were happy together. They were in love. He wanted to be with her as much as possible. Whenever possible.

And he no longer wanted to do anything with her. Even if it was work related. Even if it was just lunch to discuss the case, or a late afternoon in one of their offices slogging through paperwork.

Ever since the Lauren Eames case. Sure, her world had been dumped upside-down for those three days. Nothing had made sense, and everything had just... spiraled out of control continuously until she hadn't known which way was up and which was down, and she had just wanted to collapse from the exhaustion of _thinking_ too much. But she hadn't been the only one changed because of it. Because she had told him, _told Booth_, about her feelings. Had told him she had been wrong. Had practically _admitted_ that she loved him.

And that had been remarkably stupid.

It didn't matter that, the next morning, she'd felt better for it. Getting it out there and all... taking a shot at a better future rather than hiding. No, it didn't matter. Because now, she was lost again, and even farther from happiness than she'd ever been in her life.

Booth had taken her seriously. To a point that she hadn't imagined, in fact. Now, he avoided her. Spent a lot of time telling her about what he and Hannah did together. Almost like he was trying to convince her that he was with Hannah, and that it wasn't going to change. Almost like he was afraid she was too attached to him, and she wasn't going to be able to move on.

He was half right. She was attached, and she wasn't going to move on.

But what she _wasn't_ going to do, was tell him, or do anything to let him know just how much she was _aching_ inside. She wasn't cruel, and she wasn't stupid. Far from it. She knew when to give up and gather up what was left of her dignity. So she'd had no intent of trying to... force her way in between him and his girlfriend.

He was happy with Hannah. Happier than she'd ever seen him. Why would she want to ruin that, when all she'd ever _wanted_ was to make him happy?

That was why she'd turned him down that night outside the Hoover building, after their long talk with Sweets. That was why she'd made up her mind to never let anything hurt him... including herself. And she _was_ the greatest threat, even if he didn't see it.

She should be relieved that he had found someone new, someone that loved him back and could promise to always feel that way. Someone that was solid and understandable... as well as tall and blonde.

And yet, through all of that, she couldn't help but feel a stab of agony whenever she saw them together. She wanted, irrationally, to prove that she could do better than Hannah. That was where the mishap with the telephone had come in. It had been stupid, but she'd seen it as a way to make him happy. It was only later that she realized she had passed on a bit of knowledge that was attached to her. If she wanted to let him go, she needed it to be _Hannah _who discovered little things about him, without her help, so that he could be happier and _more_ involved.

But some days, the pain wasn't something she could fight. It was a physical presence, weighing her down. And she hated it. It wasn't _normal_, and it made her feel like another person entirely. Dr. Brennan didn't break down in her office when no one was looking. Dr. Brennan didn't freak out because her partner walked right past her office to meet Hannah at the doors for a kiss before they left together. And Dr. Brennan most certainly didn't let herself fantasize about how happy she could be if only she had made a different decision all that time ago.

It was too late, though. Too late, and she needed to accept that.

Sooner rather than later.

Things would be so much easier if she had Angela to talk to. Through every relationship, she'd always had the artist to talk to. Not that she went to Ange herself... but rather than Angela, through whatever mystical means of understanding, figured out something was wrong and came to _her_, pushing her until she finally spilled everything. And then they talked, and Angela would agree with everything she said, and they would both go into great detail about how stupid men were, and how it was their faults that nothing was ever easy in a relationship. All leading up to some sort of advice that Angela would leave her to think about... advice that almost always turned out to be hugely successful.

This was different, though, because this wasn't some man she had met at a seminar, or some guy she'd run into at the coffee shop. This wasn't her trying to understand mixed signals and figure out what to wear on a date.

This was her trying to understand why everything _hurt_ so much, and why she felt so goddamn alone all the time, even when it seemed like she was still surrounded by people that she cared about... and that she had thought cared about her in return.

The thing was, though... none of them seemed to have noticed her distress. Angela spent most of her time working on art or avidly discussing her pregnancy with Hodgins or some other member of the team. Her and Cam now had something in common, and the latter seemed determined to share motherly advice, and gush over the baby outfits that she hadn't been around to pick out for Michelle.

Angela had questioned, once or twice, about her emotions. But they had been fleeting instances, and Brennan had never felt much like talking. But when had she ever? The only way her friend had _ever_ gotten her to open up was by sitting her down and dedicating an hour to figuring out the details.

Nowadays, Angela asked if she was okay, she waved her off halfheartedly, and Angela hesitated before leaving her on her own again.

She knew she could easily call Angela up at any time, and her friend would be more than happy to talk it out, but somehow she couldn't get up the courage to do so. Partly, it was because she didn't want to be a bother in Angela's clearly happy life. But mostly... she didn't want to admit what was going on. She didn't want to have to tell her best friend, who's love life was so successful and filled with joy, that she had failed in her own and was now left with nothing to do but sob her eyes out in Booth's car after being rejected.

Secretly, she was terrified that... well, maybe Angela would agree with Booth. Maybe she would say that Brennan had missed her chance, and that by giving him up she shouldn't have expected any more than this.

Besides, Angela seemed to like Hannah. This past week, they'd gone out to coffee more than once. She'd been invited the first time, but after turning them down, they hadn't asked again. The last day of work before the lab had closed for the holidays, she'd gone looking for her friend to ask a question about the victim... and hadn't been able to find her. After searching the lab, she'd been forced to go to Hodgins and query about her whereabouts, only to find out that she'd taken an hour lunch to go shopping with Hannah and then grab a bite at the Diner with both her and Booth.

She felt like she was drowning in her own life, which had spiraled so far out of control that she didn't even feel like it was her own anymore.

She almost wished it wasn't.

Her friends had their own matters to deal with, and no one cared if she worked all hours and got little to no sleep. No one cared if she missed lunch, and no one cared if she locked herself in her office for a couple hours with the lights off so that no one would see the tears trailing down her face.

She felt _invisible_, like... she was back in school again. Surrounded by people that worked with her because that was what they had to do, because it was in the job description. Not because they cared in any individual capacity.

Which was why she was here, now, on Christmas, all alone.

She had almost gone on a trip, perhaps to Guatemala or back to El Salvador, but something had held her back. A last hope, perhaps, that maybe she wasn't entirely forgotten.

In the past, Angela had always made sure they did something together for the holidays. She had some sort of party, or at the very least dragged her to the one the Jeffersonian threw. This year, neither had happened. Angela had offered to bring her back an eggnog from the staff party. Hadn't even asked if she wanted to go. And so she'd turned down the eggnog, trying not to show any emotions on her face, but feeling like she might fall apart inside.

How could she possibly blame Ange, though, when it was really all her fault?

For the past six years, she had turned down almost every offer to go have fun. She'd only gone to clubs under extreme protest, and hadn't been very much fun at Christmas parties. Was it really a shock that no one would invite her this year, when she'd been distant and unresponsive for the past few weeks? They probably assumed she didn't want to be bothered. Probably thought that she was just putting up more walls, icing herself over to drive away others.

And in part, she had been. But not intentionally.

She'd been so lost in herself, that she'd been desperately hoping someone would come along to pull her back to the surface. Normally, that would be Angela. Maybe even Hodgins, or Cam.

But especially, it would have been Booth, who would have worried about her and tried to cheer her up. Who would have checked up on her periodically to ensure she ate at normal hours, and went home at a reasonable time. It would have been Booth who would have enquired about her plans for Christmas, whined about how she should be getting in the spirit, and, even if he suspected she would say no, would have invited her to do something with him, even if it was only brief... just to make sure she wasn't entirely alone for the holidays.

He hadn't called her for anything non-case-related in two weeks.

She felt a tear slide down her cheek, and let out a shaky breath.

God, she was losing it. Honest to goodness losing it. A few years ago, she'd never have let herself cry like this, even if she _was_ alone like this in her own home.

She didn't even recognize the woman in her bathroom mirror anymore when she got up in the morning. The dark circles, the despaired expression, the hollow eyes.

Why was she doing this to herself? Because she thought she _needed_ him?

She buried her head in her hands. Who was she kidding? She'd lost this battle five years ago when she'd agreed to be partners with him. She'd sent herself down this path, and periodically along the way she'd questioned her own intentions, wondering how it could possible end any way but in disaster.

She'd predicted this; had predicted her own misery and ruin. Only, she'd thought she would get through it with a lot more grace. Had thought that she would be more adept at handling the pain, after all the suffering she'd been through in the past from failed relationships.

Apparently, though, she'd been wrong.

Because in Booth's car, soaked through with her hair hanging in her face, she had told him what she hadn't been able to keep to herself anymore. She had told him what had been running through her head ever since she'd started talking to Lauren, ever since they had talked to that helicopter pilot who reminded her so much of Booth, and of how much he had wanted to give to her.

And when Booth had reminded her that he had a girlfriend, when he had told her that Hannah wasn't a consolation prize, she had realized that it was never going to happen. Not now that she'd pushed him away and into the arms of another woman. Not now that she had let her one chance pass her by because she'd been scared, and hadn't wanted to hurt _either_ of them by failing.

What if she hadn't failed though? What if things had actually worked out? What if they had been _happy_ together?

She didn't know if she'd ever know the answers to any of those questions... but what she was fully aware of, sitting her in her lonely apartment staring at her lonely tree... was that she knew this loneliness hurt far more than she had ever thought she'd be able to bear.

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Through the silence, the shrill ring of her phone made her jump. Her eyes sought out the clock as her hand groped on the end table in the dark for her phone. Five o'clock. She hadn't even realized how much the light had faded while she'd been sitting there, lost in her thoughts.

For a brief flickering of a second, she felt a jump in her chest that maybe, just maybe, it might be Booth. Calling her to at least wish her a Merry Christmas. Some small sign that he still cared, that he hadn't forgotten about her entirely, like it seemed he was trying very hard to do. She would have even been relieved to see Angela's name flashing on the screen, to have her friend be calling for any reason at all.

But the number wasn't either of them. It was Sweets, and she felt her heart constrict in her chest and her throat tighten. Probably work related. Probably something she didn't want to deal with today.

She couldn't ignore the call, though. It was the first real contact she'd had in days. The first attempt to reach her someplace other than her office, which was where she'd practically been living for the last two weeks.

"Brennan," she answered in a clipped tone, desperate to keep any traces of her swirling emotions from his perceptive ears. She didn't need him questioning her well-being. He was her shrink... the last person that she wanted digging into her problems.

"Hey, Dr. Brennan, it's Sweets."

"I know. I have caller ID," she said impatiently. She just wanted to find out what he wanted and then get rid of him. She wasn't sure how long she could talk before she lost the little control she had over her vocal chords. The moment her voice broke, he'd be all over her.

A long pause.

"I was just... wondering what you were doing for Christmas."

She froze, her eyebrows drawn together and her eyes darting across her living room as if trying to perceive his face and read it, even though she knew it was impossible.

"Daisy and I were just about to sit down for dinner, and we thought that... well, maybe you'd like to join us."

She tried to get her voice to work, but it appeared to have failed her. She opened and shut her mouth several times, trying to fight the burning agony in her throat that felt like it was going to overwhelm her any second.

God, she hated emotions.

"Dr. Brennan?"

Crazily, she found herself answering without even thinking long enough to stop herself.

"I... yes, I would... I would love to join you."

"Oh yay!" a voice that was distinctly high pitched and familiar in a different way than Sweets' came across the line. "I knew you'd come, Dr. Brennan. This is going to be so much _fun!"_

Slight static.

"Sorry," came Sweets' voice again. "Daisy, I told you to let me-" she heard, somewhat muffled, the conversation that he was clearly having with the phone held away from his face.

"Oh, but Lancelot-"

More murmuring, harder to understand, and then, "Dr. Brennan?"

Sweets again.

"I'm still here," she managed, surprised that now she found herself suppressing laughter at their antics.

"We'll see you in twenty minutes?"

"Yes, I will be there... thank you."

"Of course. What's Christmas without friends and family, right?"

Just like that, the lump was back in her throat. "Yes," she agreed softly. "...Exactly."

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"I heard there was a huge step forward in the Brazilian dig," Daisy gushed, eyes huge as she leaned across the table, holding the basket of rolls towards Brennan despite the fact that she hadn't asked for them.

Fighting a grimace, she added a third roll to her dish and smiled politely as she took another bite of the turkey, which was really quite good. Turned out, Sweets was talented in the kitchen... something she never would have guessed.

"Yes, I've heard that there were several finds recently of infant bones. No full skeletons yet, but the results could be revolutionary in uncovering the origins of some of the earliest tribes in the region."

"Daisy?" Sweets said, eyebrows raised.

"Oops," she said, covering her mouth and giggling slightly. "We weren't supposed to talk about work over the holidays," she explained to Brennan before spinning again to her boyfriend, "Which I _totally_ agree with," she emphasized with those huge eyes practically bulging.

He offered a humored smile, and then turned knowingly back to Brennan, giving her a sympathetic look.

"Why don't we talk about something different. Like... holiday traditions."

"Oh! That's such a great _idea_, Lancelot. You're so _smart..._ I'll get us started!" She bounced in her seat, setting down her utensils and pressing her palms to the table again as she bit her lip and rolled her eyes to the ceiling in an over-exaggerated manner, clearly thinking. "My family used to have this _crazy_ tradition of hanging apples on our tree, and we could take one down each day until it was _Christmas_!"

Booth would have found that incredibly strange, Brennan found herself thinking. He would have given her one of those looks that was just for the two of them, and they would have cracked up laughing at just how absurd it was.

But instead she found herself pushing a carrot around her dish and fighting not to make her presence to obvious. She needed Sweets to not look at her right now. Or Daisy, for that matter. She wasn't sure which would be worse... at least Sweets would be likely to be subtle if he noticed something was wrong. Daisy would probably explode about it.

She needed to stop thinking about Booth. It only hurt more every time she did, because it was a constant reminder that no matter how much she desperately wanted to spend time with him, and feel like she _belonged_ again... it wouldn't make him feel the same way.

When she looked up at last, and struggled to catch up with the conversation, she found Sweets keeping Daisy's attention with a story of his first Christmas with his adoptive parents.

Her eyes misted over, and she tried to remember the first real Christmas she'd ever had. But nothing came to mind... only the phantom pain of a fist slamming into her jaw like she was a punching bag. No presents under the tree for her... and she had dared to ask.

"Brennan?" she looked up in alarm and found that Daisy's seat was vacated and she could hear her humming merrily in the kitchen as the water from the sink ran. Sweets was leaning across the table towards her, his brow furrowed with concern. "Are you okay?"

She sighed, and contemplated just telling him she was fine, like she told everyone else. It was a lie; one that she told far too often. But even if she had wanted to, the words wouldn't have been able to come. The glowing lights from the garlands that surrounded each doorframe in Sweets' apartment suddenly stained her eyes, and she averted them as her vision blurred. She bit down into her bottom lip, fighting a sob, and making sure that her bangs were shielding her face.

Not here... not in front of Sweets and Daisy...

"Brennan?" the question was more insistent, more concerned.

"No," she whispered out, her voice shattering and a single sob shaking her shoulders as she rapidly shook her head back and forth, her eyes squeezed tight shut and her throat raw with emotion that she didn't want to let loose.

"Hey, hey..." he said, worry obvious in his voice. "It's... it's okay..." his chair rattled across the floor as he pushed it out from the table. She knew he had gotten up, and she heard him move around the table.

Rather than coming to her side of the table, though, he vanished into the kitchen.

She heard him murmur something to Daisy, who asked something back, her words, although not distinguishable, clearly filled with concern that she could hear just from the change in pitch. He answered something else, and then returned to the dining room and pulled out the chair next to her to sit down.

For a moment, she thought he might try to put an arm around her or something, but thankfully he thought better of it.

"I'm sorry if this was a bad idea," he said at last. She could feel his eyes on her, watching intently.

She shook her head again, not sure if she had enough voice to speak. But she figured she should at least make the effort, before he got too worried.

"No, no... it was... it was a good idea. I-I'm glad you... invited me. Really." Her voice cracked in a few places, but she got the words out. Hesitantly, she raised her head and peered through her bangs at him. His lips were pursed and his eyes nothing but sympathetic.

"I apologize for bringing up traditions, though. I should have realized that... it wouldn't be a subject you'd be happy with. I was just trying to distract Daisy from death and gore and anything really that wasn't... happy and cheerful. We're supposed to be happy on Christmas."

"The only people that are happy on Christmas are the people with families," she whispered.

"Hey, you have a family," he intercepted, placing a hand on her arm. Surprisingly, the touch didn't bother her, and she didn't flinch away. His hand felt warm. Reassuring. It was... nice. The feeling of someone caring enough to make the effort.

She shrugged at what he had said, though. Because she wasn't sure if it was true anymore.

"I'm guessing that this is about more than just Christmases past, though. Am I right?"

She paused, biting her lip again, and then nodded.

He gave a bob of his head in acknowledgement. "This is about Booth and Hannah."

She sucked in a sharp breath. She might as well have answered, because that was clearly all the response he needed to judge the truth for himself.

He wasn't wrong, though, of course.

"I've suspected that things weren't the same, ever since that case with the... doctor."

She just nodded again, and then said softly, "He won't even look at me anymore."

Sweets expression collapsed, empathy echoing through his eyes. "Brennan..."

"I don't need your pity," she snapped, her voice coming out coarse and not nearly as harsh as she had intended.

He nodded understandingly, his hand gone from her arm. He leaned sideways into the table, still watching her. She felt her face fall as surely as he saw it. She wasn't angry with him. Far from it. If anything, she was furious with herself.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. Lashing out because she was frustrated, at the _one_ person who had shown any interest in her in weeks... well, it wasn't going to do any good.

"No need to be," he assured. "Is there... anything I can do to help?"

His question surprised her more than anything else that evening had. She'd never expected him to offer such a thing. She'd stopped expecting anyone to offer help, to be honest. She was more than a little tempted to accept, but she didn't know what she could ask of him.

What could he possibly do to fix this mess she was in?

"I don't know," she answered honestly, her voice raw.

He just nodded again. "Well... I'm here. And like I said before... you truly aren't alone. You have friends in this world. Friends that think of themselves as your family. You need to know that... trust in that."

She didn't have the heart to tell him that she didn't believe him. He was trying, and she was very grateful for it. So she simply nodded and offered him what she hoped was an optimistic expression.

Because she was alone. Alone here with this one life boat bobbing by her side... and she wasn't even sure if she wanted to be rescued anymore.

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**Reviews are love. They not only make me happy, but they make me want to update faster. Hint hint ;) **


	2. Acceptance

**Wow. Okay, the response to the last chapter was absolutely AMAZING. You guys are so wonderful, and I'm so glad you're enjoying this story already :) Here's hoping the rest of it goes just as well! (And thank you all!)**

**This chapter will hopefully give you guys some insight on Booth's side of this whole thing. I also apologize for the Hannah/Booth interaction. *winces***

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_Chapter 2: Acceptance  
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_December 27__th__, 2010_

The smell of toast and bacon was what woke Booth for once, rather than the usual blare of his alarm clock. Glancing at it, he realized that the alarm had been shut off. He groaned and rolled out of the bed, dragging on a pair of warm sweatpants to fight the chill of the early morning winter air. The wood floor was icy, and he hobbled to the hallway, dodging from carpeted surface to carpeted surface as he made his way to the kitchen.

"Good morning, sleepy head," Hannah greeted him with a warm smile, turning away from the stove. She was wearing the new bathrobe he'd gotten her for Christmas, he noted with a grin. He wasn't very confident with finding clothing for women, so he was more than a little relieved that she had approved so strongly of it.

Through the opening that led to the living room, he could see the glimmer of the lights from their Christmas tree, which they had both agreed to leave up until New Years, not quite ready to let go of the Christmas spirit. It was hard to believe, as it had always been for him, that all that chaos and concern and excitement had once more tumbled over into this 'after-Christmas' peace that felt just a bit empty.

So the tree had to stay. At least for a while longer.

She had put up her decorations in tandem with his, so they intermingled on the tree and around the apartment, along with the scraps of gift wrap they'd both been too lazy to gather up in the aftermath.

He would have liked to have had Parker for the holidays, but even he had had to agree with Rebecca that he wasn't likely to enjoy Christmas with his father nearly as much as normal when there was a woman he barely knew living in the apartment as well. And Parker deserved the most normal, traditional Christmas he could. Which, this year, meant going skiing in Vermont.

But Rebecca had been very agreeable about the plans for next year, saying she had no problem with letting him have Parker, regardless of whether or not he was still with Hannah. One year was plenty of time by her standards, apparently, to get Parker familiarized with his father's relationship.

It only bothered him slightly that she'd never shown the same sort of courtesy when _she_ had been the one with a new relationship.

Despite that, though, he'd had an excellent Christmas. And it might have been for the best without his son, as much as that idea seemed foreign to him. It had been pleasant to spend the morning acting however he wished, and saying whatever he wanted, without having to worry about Parker's tender ears that already appeared to have heard _far_ too much.

He was only nine, for God's sake.

"Any reason you shut off my alarm?" he asked as he wrapped an arm around her middle and pressed his lips to hers for a brief 'good morning' kiss.

She sighed into him and pulled his lips back to hers as he moved back.

"I thought you could do with a bit more rest," she admitted as she finally pulled back enough to put an inch between their faces. He rested his forehead against hers for a second, frowning good-naturedly, and then moved away quickly, sweeping over to the counter, where a dish was already filled with all the food she'd been preparing for him.

"And you made me breakfast? God, what did I do to get so lucky?"

"I'm sure it had nothing to do with your charm and handsome good looks," she teased, pushing him towards the bar stools and climbing up on hers, where her own dish was already waiting.

"Don't you have to get to work, too?" he queried, changing the subject with sudden concern. He was running late, and he knew he could talk his way around it as he had plenty of times in the past. Hannah's boss was far less forgiving and a touch too nosey, in his opinion.

"I'll be fine. Eat."

He shrugged and obeyed the command, eagerly plowing into the oversized portion of eggs and hash browns. She knew how to spoil him.

"Think you'll have a new case today?" she asked as she bit into a piece of bacon.

"Murder doesn't stop for Christmas," he said with a sad shake of his head.

"I'm sure your team will be glad to have you back."

"You'd be surprised how well they function without me. It's almost depressing. Although..." he leaned forward, "They'll never get a confession nearly as quickly as I can."

"I don't doubt that. Wish them a late Merry Christmas for me, will you? I got an offer to go to their Christmas party, but I had one at my office to attend."

He pushed away the slight uncomfortable feeling that nagged in his chest at her words, and nodded lightly, smiling to cover up what he was thinking. "I'll do that. I'm sure they missed you."

She looked unsure, but something kept her from answering, and the same thing kept him from inquiring further.

He tried not to feel relieved when she grabbed her bag, kissed him once more, and vanished with a promise to meet him for lunch if she wasn't too busy.

The apartment felt empty, but almost liberated, when he was alone in it.

He was going to be incredibly late, but he didn't care.

He took his time showering and getting into his suit, and then stared for a long time at his collection of ties and socks. His eyes roved over the patterns, the wonky colors, and the designs he remembered getting comments and laughs over in the past.

Shaking his head and feeling a tightness in the back of his throat that he tried to pretend wasn't there, he grabbed a black tie and a pair of matching socks.

It was ridiculous how much he missed the goofy rebellion he used to follow along with day in and day out. It shouldn't have effected him nearly as strongly as it did... what did it matter to him if his tie was professional or amusing? He barely even saw it himself when he was on the job, and hunting criminals didn't require a sense of humor. It required a specific set of skills and a strong sense of intuition. Not a tie.

So why did it hurt so much when, every morning, he went with the drabbest option in his artillery of possibilities?

Sighing and trying not to think too much about it-about the past month-he grabbed his keys and the stack of files he'd brought home over his holiday to look through, and made his way down to the SUV to head into the office.

He remembered a time when he would have driven straight to the nearest coffee shop, gotten two steaming cups and a doughnut for himself before swinging by her place to pick her up. He remembered the way she would look unkempt and alarmed by his arrival, hair hanging down in her face, still slick from the shower. No makeup, no clunky necklace, no jewelry. Just huge blue eyes staring out from under furrowed eyebrows as she asked him why he was ten minutes early.

But he'd never had a problem waiting for her to finish her morning routine. Her apartment was like a puzzle, and he only got to solve a portion of it every time he was there. She had a strange assortment of decorations that she found pleasing, and with almost every visit he had managed to get the story behind one or two of the stranger pieces. He'd heard everything from gifting rituals by tribes whose names he couldn't pronounce, to weapons that she had used to hunt while lost in the middle of some godforsaken jungle—whose name he _also_ could not pronounce.

His apartment was drastically different from hers. The stuff that sat on his coffee table and on his shelves was stuff that was _meant_ to be decorative. He'd either gotten it from family, from _her_, or from Hannah when she'd moved in and brought a bunch of her stuff with her. None of it was very fascinating, and a good portion of it had very clearly been bought at a thrift shop... complete with the sticky stain on the bottom from where the price tag hadn't been very agreeable upon removal.

And when Hannah had moved in, he hadn't gotten the mystery of investigating her through her belongings. Almost everything she owned appeared to be practical. Hair dryer, beauty products, family heirlooms, basic decorations from her last apartment. There were a few odd pieces, like the piece of driftwood on the shelf behind the TV stand, which she had told him came from a beach in California, and had been picked up on one of the many trips her family had taken—the catch was that she had nearly drowned trying to get it, and had almost dragged her brother down with her.

The brother he had yet to meet, but had heard plenty about.

Hannah wasn't very secretive. She didn't hide things from him, but rather told him point blank about her past, her family, her careers, and even—if he dared ask—her previous relationships.

He could tell she wanted to know more about him, too, but he wasn't sure he was quite ready to explain. She'd met Jared on Christmas Eve, when he and Padme had come to visit and exchange gifts. Beyond that, though, he'd held a lot back. For one thing, she knew nothing about his abusive and alcoholic father, or his mother.

He'd been careful to limit discussion to the one family member he was confident discussing, and the one that he was actually proud to be related to. Pops had been the first thing he had shared when they'd gotten to discussing their pasts, actually. And yet, she hadn't met him yet either.

It had crossed his mind that he should make the arrangements for a meeting with the two of them. He wanted to take Pops out to dinner and introduce him to Hannah, so they could get to know each other.

But something always held him back from bringing up the idea to her.

Perhaps he was afraid that Pops wouldn't approve, or that Hannah and him wouldn't get along the way he was hoping they would. But... the more likely reason was that he was afraid Pops would be disappointed. Not in Hannah, because there was no way his grandfather wouldn't be able to see that they made each other happy... but in Booth.

Because Pops had taken a liking to someone else. And while Booth usually told him everything that was going on in his life, as of late he'd left out a lot of details. He hadn't mentioned Hannah, and hadn't shared how everything had fallen apart before he'd gone to Afghanistan.

He didn't want the one person from his past that he still loved to question his motives, or tell him he had been wrong.

He already questioned himself enough as it was, wondering what he might have done differently.

Which was why the situation he was in now was so complicated.

He loved Bones.

But he also loved Hannah.

Some people might not have understood that... might have told him that you couldn't love two people at once; not fully, at least. But he was willing to argue that it was very possible. The way he was feeling right now certainly made an argument all on its own.

You never stopped loving someone once you had feelings for them. It was a lesson he had learned with Rebecca... because no matter how much he tried to dislike her for limiting his time with Parker, for filling his spot with other father-figures in Parker's life, for turning down his proposal in the first place... he always managed to remember the early days. The way they had been madly in love. The way he had adored everything she did, and everything she said had made him feel light and warm inside.

He couldn't forget that she had made him happy at one point. And while she could be stubborn as all hell at points, and frustrating beyond belief... he did still care for her. That wouldn't change.

And the same thing went for Bones, except it was... different. Different _because _it was Bones. Because it hadn't been a whirlwind relationship that swept him off his feet in college after his return from duty—it had been a gradual thing. One he had somehow missed for years on end until he hadn't been able to ignore it anymore. To love someone from a distance was far more challenging than it was to love someone when you were in a relationship with them.

Before Bones, he'd have never thought it was possible to once more reach that level of rejection and pain he'd felt the day Rebecca had shook her head at him, tears in her eyes, and reached out to close the lid of the ring box he was holding out to her.

As it was, Bones had blown Rebecca right out of the water.

It hurt far more to love from a distance and then _lose it completely_ than it did to hold someone close and then be slowly pushed away.

And the fallout from Rebecca had been calmer and more understandable, as well. He had been involved in the doctor visits, because he _was_ the father, and he wouldn't have done it any differently. And he had slowly realized the flaws in their relationship over those nine months, until he had understood that it never would have worked out. Would have been worse for Parker.

This, though? What he was facing with Bones? He had no regrets beyond letting her get on that plane. He saw nothing wrong with anything that had been between them all those years. Saw only faded photographs filled with happy memories that they had passed by and were gone. There could have been something great there, but it hadn't happened.

Maybe it hadn't been meant to happen.

That was what he tried to console himself with these days.

What he'd been trying very hard to convince himself of in these past two weeks especially.

Before the Lauren Eames case, he hadn't thought it was possible for things to fall apart further more than they had. He'd thought they'd gone as far as they could and were starting to settle back into some semblance of normality. Heck, Hannah and Brennan even seemed to be getting along with one another.

But then Bones had gone and said that she had been wrong. She'd outright told him that she regretted her decision that night, after their discussion with Sweets. She might as well have said that she wished she and him were together.

And his heart had just about fallen to pieces, scattered on the floor mats of his SUV, when she had broken down in tears.

Never had he wanted so badly to take someone's pain away. There had been times when he had wished more than anything that he could spare her from what she was facing... but in the worst of moments, when it came down to it, he was the one that had broken _her_ heart that night. She had sobbed in the seat beside him, because of him, and he hadn't been able to do anything about it.

No matter how much it hurt, though, he knew he'd made the right choice in the end. What else _could_ he have done? He _did_ love Hannah. And he was in a committed relationship with her. He loved going home at night to find her there, and he loved having lunch with her, and he loved going to bed at night with her beside him and waking up in the morning with his arms wrapped around her.

Brennan might have been hurting... but what would it make him, to turn around and push away someone that hadn't done anything but love him since they'd met, just so he could have a shot with another woman who had already broken his heart once in the past year?

It wasn't possible to move on. The phrase was foolish. Completely ridiculous. You didn't move on from someone. You _recovered_ from the aftermath, you found a way to cope... but you didn't move on. You didn't _forget_ the things that had made you happy. And your heart most certainly didn't forget the way it felt to love someone, even when you barely saw them anymore.

He'd found a way to recover. To cope and be happy again. Not the same kind of happy, but happy in a very good, very warm sort of way. Rebecca had made him happy in the whirlwind romance way, in the casual, fun, spontaneous way. Bones had made him happy in the witty, brilliant, confusing, mysterious, and adorable way. And now, Hannah made him happy in the warm, funny, bright, and energetic way.

He hadn't been lying. She wasn't a consolation prize in comparison to Brennan. To say that would be like saying that Brennan herself was a consolation prize to Rebecca. Just because he got turned down by one woman didn't mean the next wasn't as brilliant and wonderful as the last. It didn't mean he couldn't be happy again.

He just wished he could believe she might find the same sort of joy with someone else as well. He didn't doubt the possibility... just feared for what might occur between then and now. Her past relationships had not been confidence inspiring, and while he was happy with Hannah now, it didn't mean he wouldn't do anything to keep Bones safe. Even running background checks on her boyfriends to make sure she wasn't dating a psychopath that really planned to drag her off to Texas to bury her in his backyard.

Just one of the many chilling possibilities that might become reality... when it came to _her_.

As he put his files down on his desk, barely remembering the drive in to work, he wondered how her Christmas was. Wondered if her family had been in town; if she'd spent the holidays with Max, Russ, Amy, and the kids.

He hoped so... still felt guilty for not checking up on her.

Hell, he still felt guilty for a lot of things that had happened in these past two weeks.

But if he really and truly expected her to find happiness again, he was going to have to stop leading her on. Honestly, he'd had a hard time considering the fact she might actually have feelings for him. It wasn't that he didn't think she was capable... just that he'd been miserable for so long over how things had gone with them that he'd given up hope it was possible she could return the way he felt.

He'd been spending too much time with her since he'd met Hannah, though. Sure, they'd stopped doing paperwork at each others apartments with Thai food in cartons between them, but they'd still been having working lunches that often felt far less like work and more like he was enjoying himself and having a good time with his partner.

And clearly she felt the same way about it, because she had expressed her feelings to him when he was locked in a relationship. She must have had some hope that it might work out, otherwise she wouldn't have tried.

While he was with Hannah, though, that wasn't going to happen. And so, whenever she suggested they grab lunch while out on the job, he'd turned her down. Came up with excuses, invented paperwork, and scheduled plenty of extra time with Hannah.

He wasn't even sure who he was trying to convince anymore, Brennan or himself.

The reality was that he hadn't seen Bones in a non-work capacity since she had broken down in his car. Barely a phone call, and even then, it was almost always a quick conversation—A transference of data or an agreement to meet at the lab or in the interrogation room to move the case forward.

After a few days, she'd stopped asking to go to lunch. Stopped asking for anything.

And the look in her eyes had darkened. Swept through him like a chill. Gray and cold. Broken. He pretended he didn't see it, knowing that if he did... he'd never be able to look away.

Never be able to let it continue.

How else was he supposed to handle this? Was he supposed to carry on his relationship with Hannah and selfishly enjoying Brennan's company so she wouldn't be sad? It would only make her think that he shared her sentiments, when he _couldn't_. Not now.

Because he was happy now.

And he wanted things to keep going like they were... until he could stop feeling bad about Brennan, and just feel happy that he was with Hannah.

A part of him wondered if that would ever happen, though.

Because he missed her. Missed her so much that it hurt. He missed the way she used to smile at him. Missed the way her laugh used to sound, because God... it had taken so long to get her to open up like that... to trust him enough to laugh and eventually even joke around with him. Mostly, though, he missed the way she used to trust in him like he could never do her wrong, and the way he used to believe that it was true just as strongly as she did. He never would have hurt her, never would have failed her.

And yet, somehow, he was doing it now. And he couldn't stop... because it would hurt her _more_. The logic was cold, rational... the kind of thought process she probably would have used on him back in the day.

He wished there was a way that things could be different. So they could both be happy without hurting each other, and without hurting Hannah.

For now, though, it didn't seem possible.

He just hoped that at some point... they'd stumble upon that ground without even realizing it, and settle into a position they'd never thought they'd get to. That _he_ had never thought he could get to.

Acceptance.

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**Reviews make me unbelievable happy. Seriously.  
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	3. Promises

**Welcome back, everyone! I hope you all had a lovely Christmas/Holidays :) Sorry for the delay in getting this chapter up. I had originally hoped to put this up on Christmas Eve, but I still had some work to do on it. I hope the length makes up for the wait. **

**Oh, and for anyone that might have been confused, we are still very much in 2010. That was a typo last chapter that I've since fixed; thank you to those that pointed it out for me, and to ALL of you who reviewed! I sincerely appreciate all the support!**

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_Chapter 3: Promises_

_December 28__th__, 2010_

She knocked softly on her friend's apartment door, feeling more like a stranger with every passing minute that she was in the building.

When had she last been here? When had she last just dropped by to visit, to spend time with Brennan for no reason other than that she wanted her company? When was the last time she had even seen her outside of the Jeffersonian?

Her gut gnawing at her anxiously, she knocked again, concern beginning to build up within her. Brennan was here. Her car was out front. So if she wasn't answering, then it must only mean that she didn't want to see her.

And really, could she blame her?

She knew Brennan well enough to know how she handled pain. If she chose, she could block out Angela for as long as she wanted... possibly forever.

Biting her lip, she glanced up and down the hallway, hoping halfheartedly that maybe Bren had been visiting a neighbor. She did that, right? She must know the other people in the building.

She was fooling herself, though.

Brennan didn't do that. She had _never_ done that.

Sweets had called her that morning. At first she'd thought he was calling about the latest case. He'd asked her to come down to the Hoover just before Christmas to do a sketch from a description of a witness, and when his name had appeared on her phone, she'd expected that he wanted to follow up, maybe ask her to modify the sketch according to new details.

But that hadn't been what he'd wanted at all.

Sounding far too serious and somewhat somber, he had informed her that he was worried about Brennan, and had asked her if she'd noticed anything off about her friend recently.

And then, as she'd gone to answer him, she had realized that she had no clue.

No idea what was going on with her best friend. No idea if something was bothering her.

Sure, Brennan had seemed distant lately, but she had assumed that she was tired from working so hard. Lately, she'd been spending more time in the lab than in the field, slogging through Limbo cases in her spare time and waving off anyone that suggested she go home.

Angela had been an idiot, and she knew it. A nagging part of her brain had been setting off warning signals about Brennan for ages now, ever since the month leading up to her ultimate decision to leave for the Maluku Islands, but for some reason she hadn't done anything about it. She'd asked if her friend was okay. Had attempted to get her to go out with her... but things had changed, and they had both acknowledged that fact. For one, Angela was married now. Going out to clubs didn't work the same way as it used to. And while she would have been more than fine with going if Brennan had been even mildly interested, clearly the opposite had been the case. Her friend had vehemently refused to engage in any activity that might involve meeting guys to eventually date. It seemed she'd lost all interest, but that really shouldn't have been a shock. Not knowing what she did about the situation between Booth and her.

Brennan hadn't been the one to open up about what had happened outside the Hoover building after what was probably their most stressful session with Sweets. In fact, Angela had been caught completely unaware when Booth had shown up one night outside her and Hodgins' place, requesting help about personal matters.

She had expected, as soon as he said it, that it had something to do with Brennan. But she hadn't been expecting to hear what Booth had to share. Partially because, while she was the number one proponent of a Booth and Brennan relationship, some part of her had never really imagined the day where Booth made the move for it. But mostly, she was surprised because it was Booth who had come to her, not Brennan. Normally, after something as devastating as that must have been, Brennan would seek her out and ask for advice, and Angela would be more than happy to provide a shoulder to cry on.

It seemed that, this time, Brennan had decided not to come to her. Had decided to keep it all to herself.

This should have set off more warning bells than anything else, but she had apparently missed those as well.

She cursed herself under her breath at the thought, and pounded even more insistently on her friend's door.

"Bren, come on, I know you're home!"

She had screwed up terribly this time. There had been moments, in the past, when she'd been afraid that she had pushed Bren back into her shell. Had feared that she'd been shut out forever. But she had always worked through it, had always managed to make Brennan understand and see that she had always cared about her, even if her actions had been stupid and rash and unthinking.

That had only been once or twice, though, and never quite on this level.

For God's sake, her best friend hadn't even come to her when there was something wrong, and she hadn't _noticed_.

What did that make her?

A terrible friend, for one. And a horribly self-centered one, at that. She'd been so caught up with everything that was happening to her and the others, that she'd missed the events going on around Brennan.

Just as she was about to pound on the door once more, it cracked open as far as it would go with the chain still attached, and there was Brennan, staring at her through the opening with an unreadable expression on her face.

"Sweetie," Ange sighed in relief, managing a pained smile as she stood there awkwardly. Brennan didn't say anything, and Angela shifted her feet as her smile slowly faded away. "Can I... come in?" she asked hesitantly.

The door shut, and she stepped back in surprise, alarm spreading like a wildfire until suddenly the door pulled open again, the chain hanging loosely. Brennan stood to the side, holding it open. Still silent as the grave. Angela shivered slightly, but tried to hide it with a sad smile as she carefully stepped past and into the apartment.

Which looked far from it's usual cleanliness.

It looked like Brennan hadn't dusted in weeks, and there were plates piled on the coffee table and shoes tossed haphazardly in random locations. There also appeared to be an abundance of tissues in all the trash cans, and spotting a stray one under the edge of the sofa, she suddenly got an alarming idea of what Brennan had been doing while she had been knocking. Attempting to clean.

Oh God.

She had no idea of what to say. 'I'm sorry' just didn't seem to cut it, and everything else seemed too... fake.

"What are you doing here?" Brennan asked, saving her the trouble of finding a conversation starter. Her voice was cold, almost like she was expecting a negative response.

"I was... I was worried about you, Bren."

"Why?" she asked, and this time there seemed to be a genuine note of curiosity in her tone. But it was more... confusion. Like she truly didn't understand why Angela would care. And that hurt more than anything else could have. Like a knife to the chest.

"Because, sweetie, we haven't really... talked lately. And... because I'm sorry."

Now Brennan's eyebrows furrowed together in bewilderment. "Why would you be sorry?"

She was going to have to spell it out for her. But really, it was probably for the best.

She sighed. "Because I've been acting terrible lately, and I haven't been a very good friend to you."

Rather than some type of surprise or really _any _sort of reaction that Angela might have expected, though... Brennan stiffened as though she'd just been slapped.

"You talked to Sweets." It wasn't a question, and they both knew it.

Angela winced, and Brennan backed away from her, heading straight for the door.

"Sweetie!" Angela called, chasing after her. She caught her arm and Brennan swung around. For a moment Angela was sure her friend was going to hit her just to make her let go, but then the fire in her eyes died and she collapsed against the wall, Ange's hand still gripping her wrist.

"I don't want your help," Brennan said, jerking away. This time Angela released her as though she'd been burned. She straightened herself up, but thankfully didn't make a move for the door again. She looked almost defeated. "I just want you to leave. Please."

"Not happening," Ange said firmly, crossing her arms. "I'm not leaving you like this."

"I'm not your obligation anymore," she responded harshly, and Angela felt her face go white at the words.

"You have _never_ been an obligation to me, Brennan," she answered softly. "Never. And you never will be. Now _please_... can we go and sit down?"

It was obvious that Brennan didn't quite believe what she was hearing, but regardless, she didn't protest as Angela carefully led her to the couch and sat down beside her.

"You have every right to hate me," she said without preamble. "I've certainly given you plenty of reasons lately. But no matter what you think of me, I still love you, Bren. You're still my best friend."

Brennan's eyes widened in shock, and then she shook her head. Before she could speak, though, Angela cut her off.

"I would never lie to you, sweetie. I've been selfish, and I know that's probably why you didn't come to me, so I want to make it very clear that I am still _here_ for you. No matter what happens. I just don't understand why you didn't come to me sooner. I would have helped you."

Brennan bit her lip, and then answered hesitantly, "You're happy with Hodgins."

"What?"

She sighed. "You're happy. Everything... worked out for you. And I... it's my fault that things didn't work out for me. Not yours. You... you should be happy."

"I can't be happy when I know you're miserable, Brennan."

"Exactly why I didn't tell you."

She stared at her for a second, and then shook her head. "Sweetie, has it ever occurred to you to be selfish for once?"

"I don't... I don't understand what that _means._"

"It means that... sometimes I wonder if you care too much, Bren. And you don't even realize it," she added sadly, reaching out to put her hand on top of her friend's. Brennan stared down at the contact in surprise, but made no comment. "I want you to... ruin my happiness or whatever it is you think you're doing. I want you to call me at one in the morning because you're upset. I don't _care_, okay? I just... I want you to know that you can count on me. Because I've always been able to count on you, without even having to think about it. And you deserve that back, more than anyone I know."

"Ange, I'm not... I'm _not_ the heart person."

She scoffed, anger rising for the first time within her. Why the hell her friend believed that she had no clue, but she was getting rather tired of it. Didn't Brennan realize how much she cared? How much she showed _others_ that she cared? Didn't she realize that she meant more to her, to the whole team, than she ever seemed to giver herself credit for?

"The hell you aren't, Bren. It's possible to be a genius and still be a 'heart person.' You're living proof. And if Booth made you think that, or anyone else, I'll kick their ass for you. Because you've got a bigger heart that most of the pompous jerks in this town."

At last, she cracked a smile, some of the light returning to her eyes. "Thank you, Ange," she murmured softly, finally sounding like she actually believed it. Angela breathed a soft sigh of relief.

"Speaking of which," she added, almost under her breath, "I might go kick Booth's ass anyways."

"What? Why?" She sounded genuinely alarmed at the idea, and Angela had all to do to keep herself from bursting.

Along with her realization about her own behavior, she'd also come to notice that of a certain FBI agent, the one who was at _fault_ for her best friend's miserable behavior as of late. And while she was at fault for being a terrible friend, she was all too willing to put her anger towards Booth for causing the disaster in the first place.

So yes, it infuriated her to think that Brennan was still so concerned about his well-being, still so protective of him, when he had clearly moved on and left her shattered heart all over the ground in his wake.

That, and the fact that when she had seen Hannah a few weeks ago, the blonde had been wearing Brennan's sunglasses. And upon inquiry, she'd been informed that Brennan had given them to her.

Sure, she believed that. Just like she believed that Brennan wasn't in love with Booth, and that Booth didn't return the feelings.

The sunglasses, in fact, had been part of her motivation in spending time with Hannah. The woman was amusing, and fashion-conscious, but beyond that, she held Booth's heart in the palm of her hand. And while Angela had been rather unaware of Brennan's emotions during the past two weeks, she'd been all too aware of the threat Hannah might possibly pose to the entire family they had built at the lab.

Which was why she'd been conducting research. Gathering intel on the enemy. And she was good at it, too, although Hannah was a bit more of a challenge to crack than Tessa had been. That woman had been like putty in her hands, eager to gush about her relationship problems with a woman she didn't know. Hannah knew who she was, though, and was much more guarded about revealing things.

It had been a slow process.

The thing was, she'd known everything that was going on in the Booth and Hannah universe, and where Brennan fit into it. She'd been so invested, in fact, that she'd _missed_ the fact that it was all having a harsh effect on her best friend.

_That_ was why she was so furious with herself. It had been within her reach, and she'd missed it completely.

But now, at least she knew what she was talking about. Had better weapons with which to aid Brennan in the solving of their problem.

Because things were not all perfect for Hannah and Booth. Not at all.

The blonde was worried; that much was clear even without her saying any specific details about the problem. And perhaps she had good reason to be, if Booth's behavior recently was any indicator. Clearly the man wasn't himself if he was turning so fully away from Brennan. He really didn't understand that Brennan was a part of him now, did he?

It amazed her how blind the both of them could be.

"Because he's an idiot, Bren," she answered finally. "And he's lying to himself if he thinks this is going to last."

Brennan was still frowning, not comprehending. "He's happy," she stated, as thought it was obvious.

"He thinks he's happy," Ange corrected smoothly. "But while _you're_ not happy, that man isn't happy. He just hasn't figured it out yet."

"Ange." Her tone held warning now, but Angela wasn't swayed even slightly.

"No, sweetie, I'm being serious. _You _make Booth happy. I don't know how to explain it, exactly, but he lost that... spark, after he came back. You did too. And the only way you're going to fix yourselves is if you figure it out. Accept it."

"I already figured out how I feel," Brennan answered, her voice cold. "And it didn't work out."

"Could you explain that?"

Brennan looked away.

"Sweetie," she asked gently. "What happened? Something... something _changed_. And I still don't know what it was."

She closed her eyes, but then slowly breathed out a sigh and looked up again, her expression fresh with grief so strong that she felt it wash over her like a tidal wave.

_Oh, Bren..._ she thought, her heart going out to her as she waited for the explanation.

"Before we both left... Booth asked me to start a relationship with him."

She hadn't been expecting this; hadn't been expecting Brennan to tell her about that night outside the Hoover building. But she was unbelievably grateful when she realized that was indeed her friend's intent. Booth might have been the one to fill her in, but it had all seemed wrong without hearing the words directly from Brennan.

"We had... just had a session with Sweets. He had asked us to read the book he had written on us, to make sure it was ready for publication. But he had... gotten something wrong. He assumed that our first case together had been Cleo Eller. He didn't know about our very first case together, when we first met."

"Because no one ever told him otherwise," Angela put in with a nod of understanding.

Brennan nodded back, and then continued, "When we informed him, he wanted to know the full story. So we told him everything... about how Cam told him about me, about how he asked for my help, about how I punched the judge and he got me drunk to fire me and have sex."

"I'm still not sure I believe that part," Ange tossed in, unable to stop herself. At Brennan's raised eyebrow she explained, "I've seen you drunk, Bren. We both know you're the one that usually puts ideas in guys' heads."

She scowled, and Angela motioned for her to continue, grimacing apologetically for the interruption.

"Sweets' whole book was based off the wrong premise, and, upset, he informed us that we had... missed our moment. Because we started off getting along and then turned against each other."

"He's too young to get it, Bren. All that time... you two fighting through those cases, and butting heads... it all made you the way you are now. Or the way you were, rather," she corrected at the incredulous look she got from her friend.

Brennan was silent for a moment, and then she hesitantly continued, "We left the office... and I truly thought that we were just going to ignore what Sweets said, because had suggested that Booth needed to do something to break the... stalemate. And then he stopped me, when we were outside... and he told me he wanted to try for... for _us_."

"And you turned him down," Ange said softly.

She nodded, not meeting her eyes. "I turned him down. And he was... upset. He told me that... that we could still work together, but that he was going to move on, and... find someone that could love him."

Angela's eyes went wide and she choked on her next words, shaking her head. "He said _what?" _Now that part, Booth had _definitely _not included in his half of the story.

When Brennan met her eyes again, they were swimming with unshed tears.

Angela suddenly had a very strong desire to hunt down Booth and kick him where it hurt. The asshole had one hell of a nerve if he thought he could get away with that. And to think, he'd had her sympathy when he'd told the story.

"Oh, Bren, I'd kill him if it wouldn't hurt you just as badly."

"I'd really, really prefer if you didn't do that," Brennan whispered.

"I know, sweetie," she murmured back gently, squeezing her friend's hand carefully. "Men are truly insufferable though. And _stupid_. He's more blind that I thought if he can't see how much you love him."

Brennan gave her an alarmed look, and she just squeezed her hand again. "Don't lie to me, sweetie. You just told me that you know how you feel about him. Don't tell me I interpreted that wrong. Now, tell me what happened recently that got you so upset. Besides the blonde."

She gave a short, humorless laugh. "You like Hannah," she said. It was almost an accusation.

"Not quite. If you remember, I didn't like Tessa much either, but she didn't need to know that."

Brennan blinked at her in confusion for a moment, and then said slowly, "You're telling me you... _don't_ like Hannah?"

"Bingo, sweetie. In fact, I find her a bit insufferable. Besides the fashion sense, but that's beyond the point. She might be a nice girl, but she's intent on getting what she wants. And that's what worries me. She's dangerous—to you, to Booth, to all of us. And I don't like that one bit."

"She's not _dangerous_," Brennan corrected, confused. "She was in a warzone, yes, but she's a reporter. I don't think she's proficient with any type of weapon."

"That's not what I mean, Brennan. I mean that..." she sighed, "Hannah is pushing her way in where she doesn't belong. And at some point that's going to shatter, and the outcome is going to be... difficult."

"I don't think I follow."

"It goes back to what I said earlier. Booth isn't actually happy. And neither is Hannah. At some point, they're going to realize that. And if Booth isn't prepared—if he's still lying to himself when it all comes out—then he might be crushed by it."

"So you're saying that... he will be crushed if he loses his relationship with Hannah."

Of course, she would construe it that way.

"No, Bren. I'm saying that it's going to end no matter what. Booth's not going to be happy with Hannah forever. He just _thinks_ he's happy. So if you take away that sense of false happiness, he'll be miserable again. He needs to figure out that he still loves you, and he needs to be the one to end things with Hannah. He can't let her be the one to do it to him. But you've distracted us from the point I was trying to get to. What happened, sweetie?"

She only hesitated a moment before she started, "You know that I was... bothered by the Lauren Eames case." Angela nodded, waiting for further explanation. "Sweets told me it was because I... over-identified with Lauren. I saw her life as my own, in a way. She distanced herself from people... pretended that she didn't care. And then she died, and... and no one even noticed she was _gone_."

"Sweetie," Angela breathed out, horror taking over for her reactions.

"I know, I know," she said, cutting her off, "I have... all of you. And you would notice if I went missing suddenly. But... I still identified with her. And for a long time, I saw her picture as... _me_. And I heard her voice on those tapes. It was completely irrational, and it made _no_ sense... but it's what I experienced. I felt like I had to find out what happened to her, and... I followed her footsteps, to an apartment building in a bad part of town, in the pouring rain. I almost got hit by a car, because I wasn't... paying attention to what I was doing.

"But Booth showed up... said he followed me. And he pulled me out of the way of the car and started driving me home. Which was... which was when I told him that I didn't want to have the regrets that Lauren Eames had when she died. I-I told him that I regretted my decision to turn him down that night."

That was where she stopped, and Angela prodded softly, "What did he say, Brennan?"

"He told me he didn't want to hurt me. But he reminded me that he was in a relationship with Hannah, and she... she wasn't a consolation prize."

"That's it?" Ange asked carefully.

She nodded, hiding her eyes behind her bangs again. Angela looked around, and found a tissue box on the table, which she quickly passed over.

"Thanks," Bren murmured, blowing her nose.

It was safe to say that she had never seen Brennan like this before. Defeated, lonely... sad beyond belief. When Booth had died, she'd been inconsolable. Angry one moment and sobbing her eyes out the next. Broken and completely out of control.

This was grief, yes, but not the same kind. This was a longing grief—grief for someone who was still living, but who was still gone.

That was what Brennan was feeling now. Angela remembered the feeling... the way it had been when her and Hodgins were apart. But a part of her had always known, always had confidence in the fact that someday things would work out. There had been days when she hadn't thought things would ever get better. But they had.

For Brennan, things weren't the same. Brennan was watching Booth actually find happiness, whereas Hodgins had never found a lasting relationship while the two of them had been apart. Brennan was living without the one person who had made her happy for the past five years.

The pain she'd felt without Hodgins was nothing compared to what Brennan was now going through. But at least she could understand where the feeling came from.

"He's wrong, you know," she said softly. Brennan met her eyes cautiously, her lashes wet with tears.

"In what way?" she asked, her voice thick.

"Hannah's second to you. She always will be."

Brennan gave a choked sob of disbelief, and Angela hurried to continue.

"Bren, think for a second. Booth followed you to the middle of nowhere on a stormy night. He was clearly worried about you, and took the time to ensure you were okay. And where was Hannah in that equation? Probably back at their apartment, alone. Because he took off to take care of you. He _cares_, sweetie. He always has, and he'll never be able to stop. He puts you _first_."

"She's his girlfriend," Brennan pointed out softly, but she didn't sound as sure of herself as she had before.

"And? That didn't mean much with Tessa, or Cam. Do you know that he chose to spend time with you when he'd made plans with Cam? More than once in fact. She told me about it... and she doesn't harbor any ill will, either. She knows the truth just like I do."

Brennan was looking away again, but she seemed to be contemplating what her friend had said.

"Just promise me something, okay, Bren?"

Brennan turned to her, waiting.

"Don't give up on Booth. Don't give up on your happiness."

Her friend bit her lip, staring off into space for a long moment before finally offering a quick nod. And then they sat in calm silence, and Angela felt that maybe she'd resolved things more than she'd thought was possible earlier that same day.

* * *

_December 29__th__, 2010 - Noon_

She was home before Seeley, but that didn't surprise her. She hadn't told him she was getting out extra early for a multitude of reasons. For one, she wanted some alone time, and Seeley had been spending more time than ever with her in the past two weeks. She had no idea what had gotten into him, but suddenly he was calling every day to go to lunch, and setting up dates, and offering to pick her up from work. To be quite honest, she was feeling just a bit suffocated by it. The Seeley she had first met was a romantic guy, sure, but now he was just going overboard. She'd started to worry that maybe this meant the end was near-she'd learned from past experience that when guys did this, it tended to end badly. He might be trying to purposefully sabotage their relationship.

And what was going on with him and Temperance, anyways? The two had been practically inseparable when she'd first arrived in DC. It seemed like they worked really well together, and got along like old friends. In fact, she hadn't felt threatened at all by Temperance once she'd gotten to know her. From Seeley's stories, she'd have thought the two of them definitely would have had a thing at some point, or that Temperance would try to sabotage their relationship. But strangely enough, that hadn't been the case at all. In fact, Temperance seemed far too eager to make friends with her, and the only thing she'd ever said that seemed threatening had been the warning for Hannah to not hurt him.

It was clear they cared for each other. But nothing more, as far as she could see. She'd tried to ask Angela about it on one of their lunches, but the artist didn't seem at all interested in talking about her friend. In fact, she seemed eager to hear the dirty details about Booth, which had, at first, been disconcerting. It felt almost like _Angela_ was the threat, rather than Temperance. Which she hadn't expected at all. But after spending enough time with her, she'd come to realize it was actually Angela's personality-she liked to dig into other people's business and seemingly had no qualms about dragging up relationship dirt as if it was casual conversation. That, and she was already very happily married. And expecting a baby.

It felt nice to have someone to talk to, after her arrival in DC. Initially, she'd been unbothered by being in a new city among new people. She had Seeley to show her around, and her work kept her busy. Eventually she'd started to miss things, though. Like the action she'd found overseas, the friends she'd made there, and gradually she'd even started to miss her hometown, with her family and her old friends. These were Seeley's old haunts, and this was Seeley's family. Like it or not, she was still an outsider. Even with Angela to talk to.

She'd shared bits and pieces of these thoughts with the artist, who was completely sympathetic and understanding, even suggesting that maybe she take a vacation to visit her relatives. The idea had sounded like a good one, up until she considered where Seeley fit into it. He would be coming along with her, to meet her family—she might have told him all about them, but that was entirely different from actually interacting with them. And if she went to visit all the way from DC, it would mean they would have to _stay_ with her parents. Something she was definitely not okay with.

None of that changed the fact that she was starting to feel a bit isolated, and Seeley's constant company wasn't helping. She spent all her time with him, meaning that she didn't meet anyone else.

Maybe she should move out. Get her own apartment, take their relationship back a step, and regain some balance in her life. Things had happened so fast, with her moving in right away; it would be nice to gain some perspective.

She wasn't foolish enough to think Seeley would like the idea, though. He was thrilled with their current arrangement, if his enthusiasm was any indicator.

She couldn't stave off the notion that something else was wrong, though. Like he _wasn't_ actually happy. Sure, he acted like he was. Talked like he was. But then there were the days when she'd look over at him and he'd be lost in thought with a sad, haunted look in his eyes as he gazed off into space. If she said something, he acted like it was no big deal. Mentioned something about being stressed about work, or the current case he was working on.

They were excuses, though, and she could tell he was hiding what was really bothering him.

So why the hell was he spending so much time with her, then?

None of it added up, and when she'd mentioned it to Angela, the artist hadn't given her a real response either. Almost like she knew what was bothering him, but had decided to be equally silent about it.

She put her dish in the sink, barely remembering what she'd just eaten, and searched for the dish cloth. Which was conveniently missing, along with the towel.

Where were the extra towels in this place? She'd been living with Seeley for several months, and she still had no clue. He had a tendency to try and do everything for her, and as a result she had a hard time finding the barest of necessities when he wasn't there. Which was a rare circumstance, to say the least. He was _always_ around.

Sighing to herself, she headed down the hallway and opened the hall closet, hoping to find a pile of towels on one of the shelves. She saw fabric up top, and reached up, trying to get a grip on the shelf itself in order to swing her other arm up and get it down.

Instead, she saw a white box just behind the cloth, which she realized, as it tumbled down, was actually a blanket, not a towel. The white box, though, was one she hadn't seen before. He'd told her he didn't have much stuff stored, just the Christmas decorations. But she'd seen all those boxes, and knew that he kept them in the closet of his son's room. This one, she'd never laid eyes on before. Curious, she returned to the kitchen and retrieved a stool.

The box was heavier than she'd been expecting, and larger than it had looked. Long and white, like a case file box, she realized. Was he keeping case info in his closet to look over? It didn't seem likely. Setting the box down beside the counter, she pulled open the lid.

It was filled, almost to the brim, with what appeared to be newspaper clippings, photographs, picture frames, and various items.

And all of them featured one person. Dr. Temperance Brennan.

She pulled out the first thing her eyes settled on, which was the frame sitting on top. It contained a picture of Seeley and Temperance, sitting on the edge of the fountain in front of the Jeffersonian. It was black and white, and they were both laughing, apparently unaware that the picture was being taken. _Angela_, she realized suddenly.

The old newspaper clippings, some of them new and crisp and others yellow and frayed, were all about the cases they had worked together. She scanned through them, one after the other. Cleo Eller, Charlie Sanders, Howard Epps, Billie Morgan, Amy Nash, Jared Addison, Spencer Holt... all the names were unfamiliar to her. Seeley had never mentioned any of these.

Now that she thought of it, all the cases he had told her about had been ones where he had worked alone. He'd never once given her the details of a case he'd worked with Temperance. He'd told her all about how brilliant Temperance was, and how she had solved certain cases, but he had never shared the case info. Never told her names, or dates, or any of it.

She felt strangely left out, like he was hiding her behind a shield... keeping her away from the past five years that he'd spent as Temperance's partner.

She'd have been tempted to ask why, but the box seemed to speak for itself. Stacks of pictures... frames that had clearly once decorated the apartment. They'd all been boxed up and put away when she'd come into his life. Whether he'd been trying to forget or had simply wanted to be polite, she didn't care. The facts were still the facts.

He had been at one point—and maybe still was—in love with Temperance Brennan.

She felt nauseous all of a sudden, and pulled herself, with some difficulty, up onto the nearest bar stool.

How stupid was she, that she hadn't seen it before? It was fairly obvious when she looked now... the way Seeley had talked so adamantly about her when they were both in Afghanistan, the way he had brightened exponentially when Temperance used to join them at the Diner, the way he didn't come home that night until past midnight—only saying in explanation that it wouldn't happen again, and that he'd just been worried about Temperance.

It was after that, she realized suddenly, that he'd started spending so much time with her and less with his partner. Something had _clearly_ happened. Whether it was something he felt guilty for and was now trying to overcompensate for, or something that made him want to sabotage their relationship... she didn't know.

But she did know that this wasn't going to work.

And then there was the fact that he hadn't shared any of this with her. They _must_ have been in a relationship at some point. The idea of it _not_ being true was almost laughable. The fact that he hadn't told her about it, hadn't shared the history and tried to get past it with her... it meant he hadn't moved on. He hadn't gotten over her... over _whatever_ it was that had pushed them to go their opposite ways last spring.

He hadn't wanted to talk about the reasons he was in Afghanistan when she'd asked him while they were over there. He'd shrugged it off, blamed it on duty and honor... doing what was asked by his country.

But Temperance had been on some island on the other side of the world. What other reason did he need than that to be gone himself?

That was why they had met. Because him and Temperance had... what, exactly? Broken up? Had a fight? There were a number of possibilities, and she didn't like any of them.

And yet, Temperance had shown only kindness to her since they'd first met. Her protectiveness of Seeley made sense, but the kindness... didn't. Plus, why was she still working with him? Hannah would have left any ex behind without hesitation after he found a new woman. It was just self-deprecating to stay around and watch.

She didn't know the full story, though, she reminded herself. And there was _always_ a story. She slid off the bar stool, intent on heading to the nearest coffee shop to clear her head for a while. She needed to think over what she was going to say to him. Just about to grab her things, something else in the box on the floor caught her eye. It was to the corner, and had been moved into view when she had dug through the newspaper articles.

It was a little velvet box.

Unable to stem her curiosity, she bent and retrieved it, her throat tightening.

Carefully, she pushed it open, the hinge snapping back into place and revealing a ring sitting in typically soft inlay. The band was gold, and a large diamond sat in the center, flanked by small, oval-cut sapphires on both sides as well as several smaller diamonds that filled in the gaps.

The light caught it, and the whole thing sparkled gorgeously.

If there was any chance it might be for her, she would have been thrilled.

But it wasn't, and she wasn't stupid enough to fool herself into believing otherwise. The ring was hidden away, which usually would mean it was hidden from her for the obvious reason. But this ring wasn't. It was hidden among all these tokens of Temperance.

The ring was meant for _her_. For his partner.

Not her, his girlfriend.

Fighting back angry tears, she wasn't sure whether she was more angry about the lies, or more upset about the obviously unreal relationship she'd been living in. Because she did love Booth. He was a great guy, and she'd be a fool _not_ to.

The thing was, like every other great guy she'd met... he was taken. Not in the traditional way, but taken nonetheless.

She had pulled the ring from the box, and had been holding it steady between her thumb and forefinger for the past few minutes, but she'd barely noticed that she'd done so. Now, she released it, letting it fall back onto the soft cushion of the newspapers in the box.

She placed the ring box heavily back on the counter, snapping it shut. The sound was loud in the silent apartment.

Fury suddenly ready to explode, she changed her plans.

She barely noticed when the door slammed behind her that it had rebounded back and stood slightly ajar as she pounded down the hallway to the elevator.

* * *

**I hope this chapter was satisfying, and that Hannah and Angela weren't too OOC. I don't write Angela as often as I do Booth and Brennan, and I've never written Hannah's perspecive before xD**

**I haven't even started the next chapter yet. Feedback makes happy, and makes me write faster :D  
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	4. Perspective

**As always, the response has been phenomenal. Thank you all so much for reading; I never thought this story would be received as amazingly as it has been. I hope you all continue to enjoy where I'm going with this. And I hope you all don't hate me after this. **

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_Chapter 4: Perspective_

_December 29__th__, 2010_

Angela's talk had reassured her on several levels, but not enough for her to throw out the plane ticket that she now held in her hand. She'd bought it the day after Christmas. One way from DC to Montreal.

She had considered mentioning it to her friend... telling her what she planned and seeing what her thoughts on it were, but something had stopped her. Maybe it was because she wasn't sure if she actually wanted to leave, or perhaps it was because she knew that Angela would try to talk her out of it.

And she wanted to make this decision on her own.

Angela's visit had made her realize more than a few things, the foremost of which being that her friends still cared about her. And they still wanted her around, apparently. But while she loved them all, and would never want to hurt them—especially Angela—she wanted to get away with a passion she couldn't describe.

How could she stay and watch Booth for another day, knowing that things wouldn't be the same ever again? No matter what she might have promised Angela, if Booth was truly happy with his situation, then she didn't want to change it. He had basically told her that she wouldn't be capable of loving him in thirty years. Sure, she wasn't sure if she would be either, but he had just... decided it. Told her she wasn't even capable of loving him at _all_, practically.

He had no clue, and at just the reminder she felt her throat constrict painfully.

Was she truly so cold, even to him, that it wasn't obvious how much she needed him?

She'd been in love with him for the past four years, something she only realized now. She'd never been able to admit it to herself, much less to anyone else. But when the realization had crashed down that she might actually lose him permanently... she'd been forced to reassess. And as painful as it was, she knew she felt something about him that simply hadn't existed for anyone else, even the men she had dated and slept with.

With Booth, there was something else. A warmth, a companionship... a longing that went beyond just friendship. She missed him when they'd only been apart for a few minutes. Whenever her phone rang, she hoped it was him—and it had usually always been. Until recently, when her phone never rang at all.

Watching him, though, and knowing that he wasn't thinking about her the way she was thinking about him—knowing that he wasn't missing her when all she wanted was just for him to _look_ at her and smile—it was getting to be more than she could bear.

He didn't think she was good enough. That had been made pretty clear over the past months. He didn't think she could change for him; he'd given up on her the moment she'd said she didn't know how to. Didn't he realize that all she had wanted was for him to say that he would help her figure it out? She didn't want to hurt him, which was why she had turned him down in the first place... but the pain that it had caused her was enough for her to regret the decision all on its own.

It had simply taken the Eames case to make her come around to admitting it to him, to realizing that maybe she needed to make an effort to change it on her own, before it was too late.

But obviously it was _already _too late. He preferred Hannah's company to hers. He might even be happier if she was gone.

What Angela said had struck a chord though. He still cared, clearly, if he'd made the effort to follow her that night. And even if he had become really distant after she'd admitted her regrets to him, he must still care. That was how Booth was, and that was something she knew couldn't have changed. It was a part of who he was.

Which was why she had the letter gripped in her hand under the plane ticket. The explanation to him that she was leaving for a work opportunity, and that he shouldn't worry. The wish that he would be happy, and that he would keep working with the team.

Maybe he'd even like the replacement anthropologist that the Jeffersonian got. Maybe they'd get along and not have all the complications between them that she and Booth now had.

That was the best she could hope for.

She wondered, though, as she read through her words once more, whether he'd be sad that she was leaving. Whether he'd actually miss her, or whether he'd consider this a blessing. The second one was almost too painful to contemplate.

Because she would miss him. She already did, even when she was standing right next to him. From across the border she would miss him even more. Maybe she'd even regret leaving at all. But right now, it seemed like her only option. If he could move on, then she should be able to as well. It was part of human nature to deal with the pain that was dealt out and still be able to carry on. She was resilient. She'd gotten through things like this before. Her parents, her brother, her relationships... none of what was happening now should surprise her after all of that. She should be prepared to defend her heart and find ways to mend it so she could still function just as effectively as before.

It was just so damn hard.

Because it was Booth, and he'd promised her that he'd never leave. That he'd never betray her. And in a way, she felt that it had all been a lie. Because now he was gone, just as surely as everyone else had been back when she'd been a teenager.

What else could she do but this? It would be better for everyone.

She was leaving tonight, though, and the reality of that rang through her mind once more, sending a pang to her heart as she looked around her apartment. All her important belongings were packed, and her clothing was in the suitcase sitting by the door. She was ready to go, by all the typical standards.

In her heart, though, she knew that she'd never be ready to say goodbye to this part of her life. To a place she'd thought would always hold happiness in her memory, but now only held bitterness and sorrow.

She was going to miss the lab; the atmosphere had been excellent for working, and the people had been _hers_. They had trusted her, followed her lead, and worked in sync with every move she made. It would be a challenge to even attempt to feel the same way at the lab she was going to be situated in sometime next week.

They were happy to have her, of course. She was the top in her field, after all, and they'd been begging her to just _visit_ for years. When she'd told them she might like to join their team on a more permanent basis, they'd been ecstatic. The man in charge, Dr. Robert Howe—who insisted that she call him Rob—seemed nice enough. He had offered her a salary matching the one she currently earned at the Jeffersonian, not that it mattered much. Money had never been the motivation for her drive to identify skeletons. And her books kept her very well off.

She tried not to think of them, remembering the character that was based off of Booth and the lovely but impossible romantic entanglement he had with the character who was very much based off of herself. She'd never admitted to it, of course, but everyone knew, so what did it matter?

There was another forensic anthropologist in Montreal, as well. Dr. Derek Cadeau was of very high regard. They'd met once or twice at conventions, and she had liked him very much. He had a pleasant attitude, a very high IQ, and a nicely symmetrical face.

There was every possibility that she might find a renewed interest in him once they began working together. Besides, she had every right to move on just as much as Booth did... even though she knew she was fooling herself if she thought she'd be able to just fall in bed with a French anthropologist without wishing she was with someone else.

She would call Angela from the airport. Apologize, try to explain... tell her that she could contact her whenever she wanted by web chat or cell phone. Her friend would be angry with her, but she wasn't going to be swayed. She was going to Montreal, no matter what.

And if Booth called her, she wasn't going to pick up, no matter how tempting it would be. He would just be making sure she was okay... he would feel that it was his obligation. Knowing that it was his only reason for calling would be painful enough without answering and having it confirmed for her.

A glance at the clock told her that it was finally time. She got to her feet and took one more look around her apartment.

She hadn't cleared it out—she'd only taken what she would need. She would continue to pay the rent while she was gone, just in case. If things worked out, she would come back and finish the packing. But until then, she wasn't going to get rid of one of the few places that had ever felt like a home to her.

Opening her suitcase, she glanced out the window at the swirling snow. Not so bad as to delay her flight, but bad enough that she knew her ride wasn't going to be as quick as she'd have hoped. Pulling her long black coat on, she slid her legs into the tall boots that she liked so much.

She paused by the door, suitcase next to her feet, and bent down to pull open the front pocket, retrieving the only picture frame she'd allowed herself.

It had been Angela's gift to her this Christmas, which she had found waiting on her desk when she'd gone in that morning.

Only Cam knew she was leaving, but had refused to accept her resignation. Rather, she'd put her down for an extended leave of absence and informed her that she expected her back by February at the latest. She had shrugged it off, but was grateful that the other woman had agreed to keep the information to herself.

Brennan wanted to tell Angela by herself, and then let the others find out in whatever way came about first.

The picture in the frame was of the two of them, arms around each other, both of them standing in the middle of a snow covered lawn with a frozen pond in the distance behind them. Hodgins' estate, she thought sadly, remembering that day, when the couple had invited her over for hot chocolate and Christmas cookies, insisting that she join in on the holiday spirit. That had been two years ago, but the memory felt newer.

She sighed softly to herself, brushing her thumb over their smiling faces before she slid the image back into the suitcase, opened her door, and hurried into the hallway with the bag in tow before she could change her mind.

The front stairs of her apartment building were slick with freshly formed ice, and the sidewalk wasn't much better. Snowflakes swirled down on the parked cars that lined the streets, and she almost fell as she stepped out, hand raised to stop the next taxi that flashed by.

It took a good ten minutes of standing in the freezing torrent before she managed to hail and unoccupied one, and then the traffic was miserable.

She directed the cabbie to Booth's apartment building, feeling a raw ache in her chest when the building finally came into view. She passed him an extra twenty when he started to complain about waiting while she ran up to the apartment, and he shut up and put the vehicle in park.

She dashed through the snow, which had picked up and was now coming down in thick clumps, and was grateful to find that at least the sidewalks in this part of town had been freshly shoveled and salted.

The stairs were another matter, but with the railing's help she was up them and through the door with little difficulty. She'd always found it concerning that there was such a lack of security, but now she found that she was grateful. She took the stairs two at a time but stopped short when she reached his floor.

Her plan was to just put the letter under his door and leave, but she knew that there was very little chance that was going to go off without a hitch. In her rush to get out of the weather, she hadn't thought to check for his and Hannah's vehicles, so now she had no way of knowing if either of them were home. What if it was just Hannah here, and she got the letter before Booth? It was addressed to him, but that didn't mean she wouldn't still read it.

Hesitating, she pulled the letter from her pocket and read through it again, feeling more and more like it was a bad idea. Slowly, she made her way to his door, though. She was about to turn away when she was a few yards away from it, but something stopped her in her tracks.

She froze at the sight of the crack of light pouring through the side.

The door was open slightly.

At once, she wished she had her gun with her. All other emotions fled in favor of fear and concern, and she stepped lightly forward like she'd done so many times before, pressing herself against the wall adjacent to the door.

She couldn't hear anything from inside, but that didn't mean anything. Cautiously, she reached out a hand and pushed the door open further, peering in. The light was on, and everything seemed to be in order. No tossed furniture, no smashed glass, no signs of a struggle.

Breathing a sigh of relief, she stepped further inside.

"Booth?" she called cautiously, but immediately regretted it as another thought crossed her mind. What if he'd just left the door open because he'd been occupied by something else? What if she was walking in on something she most definitely didn't need to witness?

But there was no response, and the apartment was dead silent. Glancing down the hall to where she knew his bedroom was, she saw that it was dark, as was every other room in the apartment.

The hall closet was open, and she peered in quickly, frowning. Nothing seemed off about it. Booth would never leave his door open if he wasn't here, and she felt more confused than ever as she stared at the cleaning supplies and tools that filled the shelves of the closet.

She pushed it out of her mind, though, and seeing the stool sitting slightly inside the doorframe, she realized someone must have been fetching something. Most likely either Booth or Hannah. No reason to be suspicious.

She needed to get out of here—what if Booth came home and found her here? She'd never be able to explain that, and the very last thing she wanted was to be present when he read the letter she'd written him.

Making a beeline for the counter, she set the letter down, staring at it for a long moment as she weighed her options. She could still leave with it, and he'd be none the wiser. It wouldn't matter either way, would it?

But before she could come to a decision, she spotted a little box sitting on the counter. She stepped around a large box sitting on the floor, not even glancing at its contents as she felt her throat tightening and her eyes beginning to mist over unexpectedly.

The box felt heavy in her hands as she picked it up, and out of the corner of her eye, she noticed a little bundle of torn gift wrap on the floor.

She already knew the answer to her question when she popped open the box.

It was empty.

She didn't even need to be a genius to figure out what had happened here.

This was why Booth had been pushing her away. This was why he was spending so much time with Hannah and so little with her. He'd been planning this probably for weeks. Maybe months. And once Brennan had admitted the truth to him, he'd realized he needed to get away from her, because he already knew where he wanted his future to go.

She wasn't sure what hurt most, that clearly he'd made up his mind to marry Hannah and she'd said yes, or that he hadn't even mentioned it to her.

Even if they weren't as close as they had once been, she'd still have thought he'd have come to her with information as strong as this. Didn't he think she'd want to know? Didn't he think she should be aware of what his plans were?

Fleetingly, she wondered what the ring looked like. Booth didn't have much money, but she knew him well enough to know that he'd have put a lot of effort into getting her the perfect one, no matter how large a dent it put in his bank account.

They must be out right now. Perhaps having dinner. It didn't matter; they were happy. They were getting married. This was everything Booth had ever wanted, wasn't it? A beautiful woman who shared his beliefs and loved him as much as he loved her. They'd probably have kids, and get a house...

She cut off the thought, fighting fresh waves of pain.

He never knew, never fully understood, that she wanted those things as much as he did. She didn't know how to get them, she didn't know how to handle them, she didn't know what to do to make things work out. She didn't know how to stop hurting people she cared about. She didn't know how it would feel to love someone forever.

But she was starting to understand... starting to realize that loving someone meant facing this unbearable agony, all the time, when you couldn't be with them. And she was starting to understand that she'd never have anything more with him. Because he was marrying someone else. Because he thought she'd never want that with him.

And what had she ever done to show him differently? What had she ever done but ridiculed the idea as antiquated and destined for failure?

He had never realized, just as no one else ever had, that she felt that way because... because she was never going to have someone in her life that would want that with her. Why hold out hope, why make it obvious that your wishes were going to go un-granted for all eternity?

Temperance Brennan didn't hate marriage. She resented it. Resented how the idea of it had always eluded her, how it had always seemed impossible, how it always looked like people were so happy with those they loved, and she was always on the outskirts.

She remembered watching Angela and Hodgins, remembered the way they were so happy to just be together, even when their wedding plans didn't work out. And she remembered how thrilled they'd been when they finally got what they had wanted.

She also remembered that story she'd written... the story of a world where she believed in marriage, the story of a world where she was infinitely happy to wake up beside him in the morning, and to tease him and joke around and just think about forever like it existed. She remembered how easily the words had flowed, how easy it had been to lose herself in fantasy, in a place she could never obtain in the real world.

And she remembered how close it had felt when she'd written that final scene. When she'd brought forth the fantastic fictional reality of a pregnancy shared with the man she loved.

Marriage was antiquated. Marriage had a fifty percent chance of failure in America. But marriage wasn't wrong.

Marriage was out of reach, just like happiness, just like family.

Just like Booth had become to her.

And now he was going to be gone for good.

Tears pouring unbidden down her face, she turned away. He'd lost faith in her, last year, and she'd let him. She'd let all this happen. She'd let them both fall into this reality, where he was happy, and where she was not. She'd dug her own grave... put herself on the path that led to this dark place in her heart.

And now she was going to have to get used to it.

Because things weren't going to change; they'd never been going to change.

Angela was wrong. Booth didn't love her—he'd never really loved her. She'd been a fool to think anything more than this was possible, to have let herself live in the illusion of happiness by his side all those years.

This was every bad relationship mixed into one horrible, heartbreaking moment of anguish.

It was over, and she gripped the letter in her hand and set the ring box back down softly on the counter before she fled.

* * *

His phone was ringing, and he reached across his desk to pick it up, surprised to see Angela's name flashing on the screen. He'd been expecting Hannah, who had left him a very cryptic message two hours ago informing him that he was to meet her at the Founding Father's at seven o'clock for a late dinner.

There had been a ring of finality to the demand that had set him on edge—something was wrong, and he had no clue what it might be. Everything had been going well, from his standpoint.

"Booth," he said, pressing the phone to his ear.

"You are a dead man," her voice said bitingly in his ear, and he sat up in his chair, frowning at the framed hockey picture on his wall in confusion. It seemed like everyone had it out for him today.

"Can I ask why?"

"Because Brennan is _gone_," Angela snapped furiously.

_"What?"_

"I just got a call, Booth. She told me she had just landed, wouldn't tell me _where_, and warned me not to tell you. So of course the first thing I do is call you because _clearly_ there's some explanation for what's going on, and if she doesn't want me talking to you, then it's _because_ of you. Start talking. Now."

He sputtered in confusion, looking around his office as if it might hold any answers. Nothing came to him.

"She _left_?" he asked, trying to comprehend the reality of it. His heart was racing as he tried to think of what might have motivated her to take off.

The only thing that came to his mind came in one crushing blow, and then he felt like he couldn't breathe.

He'd been spending so little time with her the past few weeks, purposefully keeping her out of his life. And he had no idea what was going on in her life because of it. No clue how she was feeling, other than that she probably wasn't happy with him.

"You think she left because of me?"

"Wow, you're a genius," she said, her voice filled with scathing sarcasm.

"But... where would she _go?"_

An impatient sigh sounded in his ear. "You're asking for it, Booth. You really are. _I don't know where she went_. I think I've made that pretty _damn_ clear. What are you going to do about it?"

His mind raced through every possibility. "I need to make some calls," he said suddenly, and hung up. His fingers raced over the numbers, and then he muttered "Pick up, pick up..." under his breath as the ringing began.

"Booth, this is a surprise," an upbeat voice greeted him smoothly. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Hey, Kent," He greeted briefly, "Listen, I need you to make good on that favor."

"Well, you've got quite the memory, don't you."

"Yeah, I do. I need you to tell me where Temperance Brennan is. _Dr._ Temperance Brennan."

"Isn't that your lady scientist partner?"

"Sort of," he answered with a slight grimace, guilt hitting him. "Can you do it for me?"

"You know I've got more resources than anybody, Booth. Besides, when somebody carries you through the jungle for an hour to save your life, you don't tend to forget it. I'll call you back in say... an hour or so?"

"Thanks, man. Really."

"No problem. Tell me, though, how hard is she going to be to find? Aliases, cash instead of credit card, red herrings?"

"I've got no idea. Just... find her for me. Please."

"I'm on it."

The line went dead in typical fashion. Kent had never been one for goodbyes, but Booth didn't care. He dropped the phone back on his desk and buried his head in his hands. Bones was gone... and the reality of that was almost too much to take in.

It took a lot to make her run. Through all their years working together, they'd faced plenty of hard times. And she'd never taken off like this, ever. He'd always been afraid of it, deep down. Afraid that someday he'd find out she was gone, that she wasn't coming back.

For some reason, that fear hadn't cropped up recently, in the time when it should have been most prominent. He tried to remember the last time he'd seen her smile, and felt a stab to his gut when he couldn't even recall what that looked like. Couldn't get a clear picture in his head of her bright eyes and her wide grin.

All he could see, in fact, was her head hanging low over her paperwork as he stared through the glass of her office walls from the platform. And he remembered how he'd felt a longing to just go to her. To just walk into the office like the old days, sit himself on the edge of her desk, and grin goofily at her when she looked up in surprise.

And her laugh... he didn't know what it sounded like. It was the echo of an echoing memory in his head. A guess from a memory he couldn't quite grasp. He remembered staring at a skeleton wound in a circle, and he remembered suggesting that it had been rolled in a carpet.

After that, though, all he knew was that she had laughed hysterically, in a way he'd never heard from her before. But the sound was beyond him. Gone, as if it had been wiped out just like her. Just like the way he had wiped her from his life. Pushed her away and tried to forget how important the little things had been between them.

He felt his chest aching like a fire was tearing through his heart, burning down all the lies he'd been telling himself the past few weeks.

And suddenly he was seeing things from her perspective, seeing the world flash by. And he pictured a scene that the helicopter pilot had told them about during the Lauren Eames case. He saw Bones hanging out the door of the helicopter as it lifted. And he saw her fall as it tipped; saw her tumble out into oblivion. Lost to him... his hand limp at his side when it should have been outstretched to catch her and pull her back up.

_What are you doing, Booth?_ He thought helplessly. _What did you hope would come from this? Did you think that you would both just forget? That she would just move on because you did? Did you think that it was okay to be happy when she wasn't?_

He remembered those early days... he remembered doing anything and everything just to get a reaction from her. He remembered the joy of her smile, she surprise of her laugh, the warmth that had spread through him when she just _looked_ at him like she didn't need anything else in that moment.

And that was when panic set in, as he wondered if he'd ever even see her again. And if he did, would he ever get her to smile, or laugh, or see him in the same way she used to?

He'd known what he was doing every step of the way. Had thought it was for the best.

But... if she was gone, if she had found the only escape she'd thought acceptable to be in fleeing from the city where her family was... then he had clearly been wrong.

Horribly, terribly wrong.

He was supposed to be her family. Hadn't he promised himself that years ago... that he would never do anything to hurt her, that he would never let anything get between them?

And he'd gone ahead and done it anyways.

He was no better than Sully... giving her one chance to make a decision and then rushing onwards because he hadn't heard the answer he'd wanted.

Why didn't Angela know where Brennan was, though? Did she want to get away so badly that she didn't want to see any of them anymore?

Angela was going to kill him. And God, did she have every right.

Shaking his head, he grabbed his coat and pocketed his cell phone. He was going to drive to her apartment and see if there was anything there that might help him understand where she was and what he could do to make it better.

He needed to bring her back. Needed to make her understand.

What was he going to do without her? The past two weeks had been hell, trying to avoid her purposefully to somehow solve the problem. She'd still been there, even if he hadn't seen her much. To not have her there at all... was an unbearable concept.

He didn't deserve her back, but God, he was going to do everything in his power to make this right.

What about Hannah? The thought suddenly popped into his mind, and he stopped short, unsure of what to think of that. He did love her, yes. And until now, he'd thought he could keep her and still have Bones around. But something was going to have to change. He wasn't going to forget his girlfriend, wasn't going to push _her_ away now... but he was going to have to find a balance. Find a way to be both a lover and a best friend without hurting anyone else.

How he was going to do that, he had no idea.

But he did know that he needed Bones. And he was going to do anything and everything possible to get her back.

* * *

**Quick note, here. I know some of you might think that Brennan's thoughts on marriage were OOC. However, this is how I see Brennan, because she's certainly got an awful lot of psychology despite hating it. She acts like things don't bother her when they do, and I believe that Brennan could very well believe in marriage, but simply use anthropology to claim she doesn't. A shield to protect herself, because she most certainly wouldn't think it was ever possible for her. She doesn't even think it's possible for people to love her. **

**But this is my opinion, and you're all welcome to yours. I just hope I managed to explain Brennan's views on it well enough that it made sense. **

**As always, my addiction to reviews hasn't subsided even slightly. Please feed it.  
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	5. Wishes

**As always, you've all been amazing. I can't thank you enough for the reviews, and I apologize for not answering every single one. I tend to be writing and checking my mail at the same time, and sometimes I get excited about the reviews and then dive right back into writing. But I seriously love all of you that have taken the time to leave me feedback. You're amazing.**

**(On an unrelated note, I haven't been able to view my traffic page for the past few days. I keep getting an error message. Does anyone know what's up with that?)  
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_Chapter 5: Wishes_

_December 30__th__, 2010_

The flight had been long and lonely. The old man next to her had snored, and hadn't understood when she had attempted to tell him that there were plenty of open rows farther back.

But she'd made it, and so had her luggage, which was always her greatest concern in travel. More than once, she had arrived in a third world country, ready for a dig, only to find that the airport had somehow lost track of her belongings once again. From that, she'd gotten in the habit of packing light and living off of the barest of necessities.

This time was different, though. This wasn't a month in Guatemala. This was a new apartment, a new job, a new life. This was new coworkers and bosses and a new city to navigate.

Her rented car had been waiting at the airport, just as she had requested. A small silver vehicle, with good gas mileage. She hadn't cared about make and model, but apparently they had gotten her an Echo. She was used to the sort of car her publisher provided, but this drove smoothly, and she'd never really cared much. It had just taken a moment for her to adjust to the controls, and then she was alright.

The apartment was small, but furnished. Sparsely, yes, but furnished nonetheless. A bed, a table, a couch, and a kitchen with appliances. It was really all she needed, anyways. She had unpacked the sheets from her suitcase and set about getting the bed ready, deciding that the comforter that had been provided would be fine before she had crashed, not even bothering to begin unpacking.

Now, in the suddenly fading light of a new day—it had already been past noon, shockingly, when she had awakened—she was ready to think about what needed to be done.

It seemed that the new lab she was working for didn't mind providing everything she needed. She had asked for a recommendation as far as accommodations went, and Dr. Howe had been quick to inform her that she shouldn't be concerned; he'd set something up for her.

And that was how she came to be here. He was the landlord, though, which concerned her slightly. While he was very highly acclaimed, he was a bit too friendly for her liking. Too interested in her. Derek had flirted with her in the past, but not to the extend that this man had so far. And she hadn't even met him in person yet.

She wondered if he was aware that she knew martial arts.

But she was hoping it wouldn't come to that, because she very much liked the idea of working here. And if he kept his distance, he would be pleasant enough to deal with.

Booth would hate the guy, she thought to herself as she dropped down onto the couch. He would have begged her to stay away from him... probably would have insisted on sleeping on her couch to make sure nothing happened.

But that was the old days, she reminded herself. The days that didn't exist anymore. The _Booth_ that didn't exist anymore.

Her phone had rung several times, both last night and in the time since she had woken up today, but all the calls had been from Angela. She had called her friend when she had arrived rather than just as she had been about to leave, needing the flight to calm herself... to ensure that she wouldn't say anything about the ring, or Booth. She wasn't sure if the lack of contact attempts from him meant Angela had kept her word and left him out of the loop, or whether he knew and simply didn't care.

As selfish as it might be when she was trying to convince herself she _wanted_ him to be happy without her... she was still hoping that the first option was the one that was true. She didn't know if she could handle it if the second one was instead.

In fact, she was almost tempted to answer the next call Angela made to her, just to find out for sure. Besides, her friend was probably worried sick, and she didn't like doing that to her. She didn't deserve it, after everything she'd done for her over the years.

She flipped on the television set, just to distract herself, and stopped at the first news station she reached. It was still early enough that they were showing some sort of afternoon talk section of their program. The anchors were doing some sort of cooking segment, and closings were scrolling across the bottom of the screen for universities and local businesses. The storm had picked up since her arrival, which was saying something, seeing as it had already been going strong. It was a miracle they'd landed safely, and hadn't had to find another airport. She was surprised she hadn't faced more delays to _begin_ with, actually, when she was still at Dulles.

A knock at her door startled her, and for a moment she immediately thought of Booth. But the idea was ridiculous, and that was proved when she opened the door to find Dr. Derek Cadeau standing on her doorstep, looking ruggedly handsome even with the flakes of snow melting in his dark mop of hair.

"Dr. Brennan, I presume," he said calmly, grinning in a rather charming way. She couldn't help but relax, smiling back.

"Dr. Cadeau," she greeted, "Would you like to come in?"

"Don't mind if I do," he said with a short laugh. "And let's drop the formalities, shall we?" he added as he stepped past. She shut the door behind him, and then joined him on the couch.

"Alright. Derek, what have you been working on lately?"

"A work question?" he asked incredulously. "Much too formal, my dear Tempe. Here, let's try this differently. How was your Christmas?"

She winced. Of course he would go there. She would much rather talk about work.

"Miserable," she answered, going for the affirmative and honest. "And yours?"

He chuckled. "Pretty much didn't notice the holiday," he said agreeably. "So probably a bit better than miserable. Mind sharing?"

"I'd rather not, actually."

He nodded, seemingly unbothered by her response. "Understandable. Any plans for New Years, now that you're here?"

"None, actually," she said, frowning slightly. There had been a note in his voice when he had asked.

"How would you like to spend it with me, then?"

"That's a bit forward," she countered. "We don't actually know each other, Derek."

"Ah, but we could," he teased, shoving her shoulder lightly. "Besides, I'd like to know a bit more about you. We are going to be working together next week, after all. I've heard lots, and I'd like to know what's true and what isn't."

"What exactly have you heard?" she asked warily. There were any number of things he might think about her already, and she wasn't sure she even wanted to hear them. As much as she liked to think it didn't bother her, she always hated when people made assumptions about her character. A prime example of why she very rarely shared that she had been a foster kid.

"Well, I've read your books. And I've heard an awful lot about your work with the FBI. All that danger and mayhem... I'm just not sure how you're going to fit into our little lab atmosphere. We don't get shot at around here."

"I think I'd call that a good thing," she noted with a slight smile. "I'm due for some time in the lab, actually. And this past month... I've gotten back into the habit of staying with the bodies, actually."

That was as much as she was planning to share.

"Well then, we'll be excellent friends, I'm sure."

She smiled, but this time it was a bit forced. "Yes, I'm sure," she answered stiffly. He was nice enough, but he was trying too hard, and she didn't like it. Plus, she'd barely arrived and he was already inserting himself into her new life.

She'd thought this would be a chance to start over. Get used to being alone again. She couldn't do that if he was going to be around constantly.

"What do you say we grab a bite to eat?" he was suggesting.

"Actually, I-"

"It'll be fun, Tempe. I know a great place, and besides, I don't see much food around this place. You must be starving."

She was hungry, having only ducked out to grab a bowl of soup at the place across the street, but she glanced at her suitcase, remembering how much work she still had to do, and wondered if she should take the time to focus on that instead.

"You can unpack later," he assured her, clearly following her line of sight. "Come on; get to know the town."

Reluctantly, she agreed. Just as she was pulling her coat back on, though, her phone rang again. She hesitated, and then reached into her pocket and sent the call straight to voicemail before leading the way out of the apartment.

* * *

Booth stepped into Angela's office, intent on getting help but feeling right away that it wasn't quite going to go that way. The artist was tapping furiously on her keyboard, as if it had wronged her in some way that warranted violence. Her eyes, when she finally glanced up at him, were filled with warning and just the right tint of hatred.

"Hey," he said nervously, not daring to try greeting her with anything else.

"Don't 'hey' me," she snapped, slamming a key down with particularly harsh force.

"I need some help," he tried more cautiously, and earned a fiery glare. "Help that will help me help Brennan," he added quickly, which got him a different response.

She pushed the keyboard off of her lap, and stood up, stalking over to him with her expression almost completely unreadable.

"I'm mad at you," she said, stating the obvious. "Very mad, actually. You broke her heart. Don't you _dare_ try to deny it, either." She was right in his face now, poking him in the chest with a long, slender finger. He couldn't help but take a step back. "The thing is, though, she still wants you around. So much so that it's _killing_ her inside what you've been doing to her. That, and you are a complete idiot who can't see what's right in front of your face."

"I want her back every bit as much as you do, Ange."

"Oh, so _now_ you notice her, once she's gone to the extreme and vanished on us. But of course it didn't matter how miserable she was while she was _here_."

"I wasn't going to lead her on," he snapped, getting tired of all the accusations being slung at him. It didn't matter that they were completely right… or maybe it was that it mattered _too_ much. "I care about her, and you know that. But I'm dating someone right now. Someone I _also_ care about. Don't tell me I don't notice her. It's been _killing _me how much I notice her."

Just like that, Angela's harsh exterior melted away, and she fell back into her chair.

"Better than I've been doing," she whispered.

What the hell that meant, he had no clue.

"Ange?" he questioned cautiously. Angry Angela he could handle; he'd been expecting it. This, though, was completely out of his depth. He had no clue what had prompted the sudden change in her demeanor.

"I've been completely out of the loop on what was going on with her. I… I didn't realize anything was wrong until yesterday. And then I thought I had helped her after I went over to talk it out with her… and today she calls me from God-knows-where and says she might not be coming back. I mean, we _both_ failed her. It wasn't even just you."

Well he hadn't seen that coming.

"It's not your fault, Angela." He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. "There wouldn't have been anything wrong with her if I hadn't chosen to handle things the way I did."

Angela stared at him with large and confused eyes. "You're admitting that you shouldn't have done what you did?"

He sighed. "I'm not sure what's right and wrong anymore, actually. Everything's been upside down lately, and I don't even know what I want, or what Bones wants. And then when she suggested that she had… I don't know, changed her _mind_… I didn't know what to do with that. You've always known I wanted her, and I mean, I _told_ you about last spring when I asked her for something more between us."

"You were tempted to tell her you felt the same way when you found her in the rain, weren't you?"

"She told you about that?"

"Uh huh."

He closed his eyes again, feeling exhausted. And then he nodded. "Yeah, I was," he whispered. And he had been. More than tempted, in fact. He'd been desperate to just put his arms around her and tell her that everything was going to be okay. Tell her that he was going to be there for her, forever, no matter what. Tell her that it didn't matter, that none of it mattered. That he'd always be her rock, and he'd always come back to her. In that moment, when she had burst into tears beside him, he'd wanted more than anything in the world to just let things fall back into the way they had been. To let things fall back into the world they had both inhabited, _together_, before that night outside the Hoover.

But he still loved Hannah. He did.

The only thing was, all he could see was Bones' face whenever he looked at Hannah. And all he could imagine was how she would react to everything he said. How she would get that little incredulous smile before she laughed, rather than just chuckling along with him at the slightest inclination.

There was nothing surprising about Hannah. Nothing that intrigued him, nothing that he wasn't expecting. When they had spats, they weren't arguments the way they were with Bones. They were wars about how their apartment was organized, or what hours they worked, or about his more annoying habits that she wished he would quit.

And all he could think of, each and every time, was how Bones would handle that same exact situation.

He couldn't help it. He kept flashing back to a world that didn't even _exist_. A world he had dreamed himself into during that coma, a world she had _written _for him.

A world where everything was so much happier.

It was so hard to be happy in that apartment with Hannah when he now had the possibility of that world hanging over his head.

"You still love her, don't you?" Angela asked softly.

"Never stopped," he whispered sadly, shaking his head.

"Thank God," she managed, running a hand through her hair. "Listen, Booth, you need to fix this, okay?"

"Obviously," he muttered.

"No, Booth. Not just bring her back, not just get her to work cases again… you need to fix this _permanently_."

"You don't seriously want me to dump Hannah," he choked out.

"Of course not," Angela said, waving off the idea. "I want you to figure things out on your own time. But if you forget about Brennan again, or keep up with that whole pretending she doesn't exist thing… I'll never forgive you. You just leave most of it to me, at least on her end."

"I can… definitely do that. If I can get her to come back, that is. Which is why I _need_ you, by the way. I have no idea where she is, and my guy hasn't called me back yet with any news."

"I've been calling her regularly, and she's been ignoring me. But she hasn't shut her phone off yet. The first thing _you_ are going to do is call her."

"…Call her?" he asked, alarmed. The idea was almost terrifyingly simple. To find Brennan was one thing. To call her was another. If he located her, he could get her alone and try and convince her that way. But on a phone… she could turn him down in any number of ways, and he'd have no control over it. She could hang up on him, or just decide not to answer it at all. He'd hurt her enough in the past few weeks to know that it wasn't likely she would pick up, but he wasn't sure how it would feel if she actually _didn't_.

He missed her so much, and he deserved to feel just the same level of rejection as he had placed upon her, but he didn't want to face it.

The way Angela was glaring, though, he knew that she was right, and that he also didn't have much of an option in the matter. Hesitantly, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. Her number was first on his speed dial, as it had always been. Even after meeting Hannah, he hadn't changed that one detail. Bones, Hannah, Parker, Angela. His top contacts in the list.

Bones had always been number one.

He hit the button, his heart racing frantically in his chest. Pressing the phone to his ear, he listened to it ring once, twice, three times before it suddenly flashed to voice mail.

He snapped the phone shut, not bothering to leave a message.

She'd given him a very clear one. She wasn't interested in what he had to say.

* * *

They stood outside her apartment door, in that awkward moment before a goodbye. Dinner had been good, and after turning down his offer to return to his place, he had insisted on walking her up to her apartment. She hadn't been able to find a reason to turn him down. He was handsome, and charming. He had kept good conversation through the meal, and he was just as eager to discuss the latest news from the anthropology world as she was. Something that she never got to do back in DC, except on the rare occasions when she attended seminars or spoke at a lecture.

"I had a good time tonight," he said with a smile. It was a typical line, one she'd heard many times before. Angela would have been happy to analyze it for her, but she didn't _have_ Angela here. And she didn't need her help with this; she could handle Derek just fine on her own.

And he was a fairly attractive man.

There was no reason why she shouldn't be interested in him.

"I did too," she answered agreeably, her hand on the doorknob. His eyes strayed down to her lips, and then lower. She felt herself flush. It had been quite some time since she'd been with a man. Since one had shown interest in her, actually. She didn't get out much anymore; didn't meet many people.

In fact, she hadn't felt much interest in the very idea when… well, when she was around Booth so much. Why go for second best when she already knew who made her happy, who cared about her?

But that was never going to happen. Why should she keep holding out for it, when he was gone now?

In the next second, Derek was leaning in towards her, and she tilted her head up to meet his lips as they came crashing down. At once, she felt crowded and overwhelmed, but she kept responding warmly to his advances, moving her lips against his, desperate to just feel something, _anything_, the way she used to.

His arms were reaching around her, one of them threading through her hair and the other reaching around to the small of her back to push her more fully into him before creeping lower.

She pushed away her inhibitions, fighting the emotions that were telling her she didn't want this, and let his tongue roam into her mouth, exploring.

The door swung open, and she would have fallen if he hadn't been holding her so tightly to him. He had opened it while she was occupied with his lips, she realized. He somehow managed to kick it closed again as they stumbled inside without breaking the contact between them.

Even in the open space, though, she didn't feel the way she'd been expecting. Hoping, really. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, enjoying the feeling but not escaping, still, from the notion that this wasn't what she wanted at all. God damn Booth for infiltrating her life so fully. How was it fair that he should be able to move on and forget her so easily, but she couldn't do the same? This was _exactly_ why she had always avoided things like this. They always ended with her being the one that was lonely, lost, and broken.

Never the other way around.

They landed on the couch, with him positioning himself on top of her, his hands straying to the buttons on her blouse. She pushed them away, distracting him by kissing him more thoroughly.

Suddenly, though, she really didn't know what she was doing.

All she could see was Booth's face, and all she could imagine was how this would never be the way it would have been with him. Her own words strayed back to her, about how Booth had gotten her drunk that night during their first case to fire her, and how Angela had corrected her in saying that she had probably been the one to put the idea in Booth's head. It was true. He hadn't shown any inclination. Had in fact been rather considerate. And she just couldn't forget the way he had insisted on admitting something personal about himself as they stood there in the rain outside the bar.

It wouldn't have been a one-night-stand to him. He would never have treated her like this. And they wouldn't have been lying on her couch. He'd have probably insisted on sitting and having another drink first, too. Talked with her.

Derek had no interest in anything of the like. He wanted sex, and that was all he had wanted all night.

As his hands reached for the front of her blouse again, she grabbed his hands and stopped him short, pulling her mouth away from his and gasping for breath as she said, "I don't think this is a good idea."

He snorted as though the idea was completely ludicrous, and moved to capture her lips again. She yanked her head back, though, her eyes blazing.

"I think you should leave," she said seriously, pushing to climb out from beneath him.

He didn't move.

"Derek," she warned, struggling to shove him off. He was much bigger than her, though, and stronger. "Get off of me," she said furiously.

"Oh come on, you want this," he said in that same charming voice. He pulled his hands out of her grip and once again went for her blouse, getting the first button undone before she very forcefully wrenched her leg up into his groin, which hadn't been the easiest move from her pinned state below him. As he gasped and yanked back, she threw all her weight into torqueing to the side, and he fell heavily onto the floor next to the couch. Breathing heavily, her hair a tangled mess hanging across her face and in her eyes, she sat up and looked down at him as he began to push himself up.

"No, I don't," she answered venomously.

It had probably been overkill, but she had wanted him off of her as quickly as possible. She didn't believe he would have actually raped her, if she had continued to protest, but he would have been far from happy. As it was, he looked positively murderous as he got to his feet. "Bitch," he spat at her, and then turned towards the door, clearly deciding that it was the wiser of his options. She was grateful he wasn't stupid enough to keep trying. Right now, she really wanted, _needed_, to be alone. Her mind was racing.

When the door was slammed behind him, she sat for a long moment before she managed to shakily get to her feet and go over to lock it and slide the chain into place as any extra precaution.

As she flipped open her cell phone, the first thing she saw were the words 'Missed Call – Booth.'

For some inexplicable reason, whether it was aftershock from the adrenaline of what had just happened, or simply her emotions once again taking over without her permission, she collapsed into helpless sobs, clutching the phone tightly to her chest and wishing that none of this had ever happened.

Wishing she had just said yes, just like she had been wishing for the past weeks over and over again.

* * *

**Well, I'm sure we all hate Derek. And maybe you hate me a little bit, too. But, there is good news. This story is eight chapters long, and everything else is all ready to go. The updates will be about every four days or so from now on, and we will end the day before the 20th, when The Bullet in the Brain airs :)**

**As always, reviews feed me, even if you just want to express how much you hate me for the angst and the lack of B/B interaction. I swear, it IS all worth it when we get to the end. Really.  
**


	6. The End

_Chapter 6: The End_

_December 31__st__, 2010_

Her phone rang again, for the fifth or sixth time that morning. Biting her lip, she tried to ignore it as she flipped through the same magazine as she had been looking at for the past hour. She couldn't get herself to shut the damn thing off. It just felt like… maybe things would be okay if she could figure this out before they stopped calling. And it was both of them, now. Angela and Booth.

The second time Booth had called her, she was far more composed then she had been upon finding out about his original call, and she had very nearly answered just to hear the sound of his voice.

But what would she say to him? He'd probably ask her to come back, and she didn't want to do that. He felt guilty that she had left. Probably blamed himself. And that wasn't a reason for her to go back, even though she still disliked the idea of making him feel bad.

Damn him for it.

She checked the ID. It was him again, but she only hesitated for brief moment before she sent it to voicemail, turning her attention back to an article that held no interest for her.

She had called Dr. Howe yesterday and informed him that she didn't think she wanted to take the job. While she could have handled Derek professionally, and she didn't think he was truly dangerous, she just didn't _want_ to see him again. Howe had been alarmed to say the least with her sudden decision, and had been desperate to know her motives. She had said that she didn't like Canada very much, and that she was going back to the US.

To where, she had no clue. Not to DC. Not yet, at least. There were plenty of other places that would be glad to have her temporarily, though, and she knew that. The thing was, there was only one place where she truly wanted to be. Only one place that actually felt like home.

And she couldn't go back there right now.

Her phone ringing again, so soon after Booth's call, surprised her. Usually there were several hours between each call.

But when she looked down, she realized that it wasn't Booth calling once more, but rather Angela, calling for only the second time that morning. And suddenly she felt like she couldn't avoid her friend anymore. She might not want her to be gone, but perhaps Brennan could find a way to get help from her… find a different place to stay while she figured things out. A place that wasn't Canada.

So, hesitantly, she opened the phone and pressed it to her ear, the very action feeling foreign after so many days in silence. "Hey, Ange," she answered as calmly as she could.

There was silence for a long moment and then a choked, "Oh my God… _Bren_. Oh… oh you actually _answered_… where the hell _are_ you? Do you have any idea how worried we've been around here?"

She sat there, frozen, not a clue as to what she should say in response. She ran her tongue over her dry lips and finally answered, as simply as she could, "I'm in Canada."

_"Canada?"_ Angela choked out. "Oh thank God I just had my passport renewed… Brennan, I'm coming up there. Where in Canada are you? Where are you staying?"

"I would… I would really prefer if you didn't come up here."

Silence for a short moment. "Not happening," Angela finally answered, her tone laced with determination. "Now tell me where you are before I find a way to trace this call, okay? Because I will. You know I will."

"I don't want you coming up here because… I don't plan on staying."

A sigh. "Sweetie, let's just… talk for a moment, okay? Can you please, _please_, tell me why you left?"

"I was actually going to leave no matter what, Ange. I had my ticket bought before you came to visit me."

Angela swore under her breath, but Brennan still heard it, and winced slightly at the clear anger in her friend's voice. "I'm sorry," the artist said instead, though, her voice suddenly filled with sadness. "I know that… I know that some of this is my fault. But why did you still leave? Don't you know… don't you have any _idea_ how important you are to me? To all of us? I _need_ you back here, Bren."

"I'm not staying away forever," she promised, and it was only after the words were out that she realized how true it was. She really wasn't going to stay away forever. She needed to be back in DC. She needed to be back at the Jeffersonian.

"Good. But… when exactly _will_ you be back?"

"I still don't know that part, Ange. I'm… having a hard time with all of this."

"So talk to me. Tell me what's going on. I told you that I'd try and help you. And damn it, you promised me you wouldn't give up on Booth, on your happiness."

She bit her lip, fighting back a reflexive sob at the natural reminder of the reason for her sudden escape, and her disregard for the promise she had made.

"Booth bought Hannah a ring," she said firmly, not bothering to waste the time it would have taken were she to beat around the topic. It was better this way.

"Whoa, what?"

"He bought her a ring. I… I went over there, to just leave a letter telling him that I was going away and I wanted him to be happy… and the door was open. So I went in, worried… and I found an empty ring box on the counter."

"Of all the…" Angela started to say, trailing off and cursing again. "I swear, one of these days I'm actually going to kill him. FBI Agent or not, he's _really_ asking for it."

"Have you talked to him?"

"Of course. I mean, I figured it was at least mostly his fault that you had left, so I had to figure out what was going on."

"And what did he… what did he say?"

"He acted like I expected he would. Panicked, made some calls, got all moody and determined to find you…"

"And?"

"And didn't act like he was getting married," Angela added thoughtfully. "But once I find out what he thinks he's playing at, I'll make sure you're the first to know. I mean… this might not be what it looks like. What if he just bought her a piece of jewelry for Christmas?"

"That doesn't explain why it was on the counter, away from everything else. Or why it was most definitely a _ring_ box."

"No, it doesn't. But just… don't give up yet, alright? We're going to figure this out, one way or the other. He loves you, he really does."

"Ange…" she tried, feeling far too tired to listen to this argument again, when she was already convinced that it couldn't be true.

"No, sweetie. I'm not just making stuff up from my gut feelings this time, okay? He loves you. He really does. And he's worried as all hell about you right now. Speaking of which, here he comes."

"He's coming?" she asked in alarm.

"Making a beeline for my office," Angela answered, sounding far from pleased. "Do you want to..?"

"No. I just… no. I'd have answered his calls if I wanted to talk to him."

"Alright. I'm going to hang up, but you have to _promise_ me that you'll answer the next time I call, okay?"

"I will, I promise, Ange."

"Thank you," the artist said, breathing a sigh of relief. "I'll talk to you soon, sweetie."

And then the line went dead, and she sighed to herself, leaning back into the cushion of the chair and wondering what to do now.

* * *

"You've got some explaining to do," she said, leaning back in her chair and glaring up at Booth as he stood in front of her desk.

"Was that Brennan?" he asked, completely ignoring what she had just said. "Did she pick up, or did she call you?"

"She picked up, actually. And I've got some questions now. Questions you're going to answer."

He looked bewildered, but asked, "Anything to help find her… I mean, she didn't say where she was, did she?" He looked like he might go hop on a plane right now if she told him, and that wouldn't do any of them any good.

"Sit," she said firmly, and he dropped obediently into the chair, watching her expectantly. "Did you propose to Hannah?" she asked, going for the most abrupt way possible to spring the question on him.

"Wait, what?" he stammered. "No, of course not. Why would you even-"

"Because Bren thinks you did," she said, overriding him completely. "And I have a tendency to agree with her side of stories, seeing as she doesn't really know how to leave out things, and you seem all too good at it."

"Ange, I swear that I didn't. I haven't even bought a ring. Hell, I wasn't even _thinking_ about it."

"Then why," she asked, leaning forward over her desk, "Did Brennan find an empty ring box sitting on the counter in your apartment when she dropped by the day she left?"

"That doesn't… that doesn't make any sense."

Frowning, she realized he wasn't lying. He was just as confused as she was.

What the hell?

"Have you been to your apartment recently, by any chance?"

"I…" he stopped short. "No, actually," he muttered.

Her eyebrows went up. "Any reason for that?"

He ran a hand through his hair. "Hannah told me to meet her for dinner, the day that Bones went missing. I totally forgot… I was so busy trying to find out where she was, and I ended up sleeping in a hotel by the airport, waiting for the call that would tell me where to go."

"Whatever happened to that?" she asked, unable to stem her curiosity.

"My guy doesn't have a ton of free time. His branch of the bureau keeps him pretty occupied, and they just got swamped the day I called him for the favor. He got overridden with files to dig through, and he called back and told me it could be a while before he got anywhere on my request… said they were watching his activity because there was a lot of high profile stuff going over his desk.

"I called in some other favors, but none of them have quite the access as Kent would have. It's taking longer than I'd like to track her down… and I can't use all my normal resources because, well, she's not a criminal."

"So why didn't you go back to your apartment last night?"

"Because I called to apologize to Hannah, and she's furious with me. I just… on top of everything with Bones, I couldn't deal with it. She's going to chew me out the next time I see her, for not coming as well as for whatever it was she wanted to talk about in the first place, but I can't… you know, I just can't bring myself to care. I don't want to worry about it, so I just… didn't go home last night."

For the first time since hanging up with Brennan, Angela found some sympathy for the guy. Things were starting to fall apart. Sure, she'd expected it… this was just a little sooner than she'd thought it would be. And he was clearly really quite stressed about Brennan.

"She's in Canada," she said at once, and his eyes flew to her in shock. "I don't know where, but she's in Canada. And she said that she's coming home, but she doesn't know when."

"She… she _is_ coming back, though?"

"Yes, she is," Angela reassured him, and he seemed to collapse with relief, burying his head in his hands for a long moment before he raised it to meet her eyes again. "Thank you, Ange."

"Anytime, G-man. Anytime so long as it doesn't involve hurting Brennan. And I have every faith that you won't be doing that again. I would really like to know about that ring, though. Because Bren doesn't imagine things. She saw the box in your apartment."

"I don't understand, that, Ange. I don't even… well, I do own a ring, but…" he trailed off again, and then swore rather loudly. "I've… I've gotta go. I think I know what Hannah wanted to talk about the other night. And I've… I've gotta be sure."

He was gone, just like that, and she stared after him, confused but at least somewhat hopeful. The poor guy was going through a lot, but it seemed that the path to realization was far better paved than she'd been expecting.

* * *

He shut the apartment door softly behind him, looking around and finding that nothing looked out of place. But she was here; her car had been parked downstairs. He glanced at the clock. It was only around noon. She must be on her lunch break. He couldn't decide if he was relieved or disappointed.

His eyes slid over to the counter, and as he stepped closer he recognized the object sitting there. The little ring box. But he knew he hadn't left that out in the open. He had left it… in the box that was now sitting, open, on the floor beside the counter. With everything inside shuffled around as if it had recently been dug through. He grimaced and swallowed hard as he picked up the box and flipped it open.

At the sight of the empty insides, he felt his gut wrench uncomfortably, and he looked around frantically. It had been his mother's ring, left to him in her will. One of the few things he had kept that had once belonged to either of his parents. The fact that it wasn't in the box that it had been sitting in for the past twenty or so years was beyond alarming.

He caught a glimpse of something shiny and at once latched on to it, spinning his head to see that the ring—thank God—was sitting softly on top of the newspapers in the box. He scooped it up, turning it over in his hands. He could remember his mother wearing it. Could remember her telling him that someday it would go to another very special woman in his life, and that she expected him to personalize it for that woman, because a ring was a special symbol of the love between two people. And she didn't want it to be the same ring as it had been when it had symbolized the _relationship_ between her and Booth's father.

That was why there were sapphires on the sides, where there had once been opals. When he had proposed to Rebecca, he hadn't made any modifications. Hadn't even remembered it as he'd dug out the box and offered it to her. As it was, she'd barely looked at the ring before she'd told him no.

The sapphires had been added years after that. A whim of the moment sort of thing. Something he hadn't planned, just something he had… done. Like it made complete sense. Like it was logical, like it was actually going to matter someday.

They were so _her_. The blue, the gorgeous deep blue was like the oceans he saw in her eyes. Dark and mysterious on some days, but glowing and vibrant when the light hit it just right, when she was smiling. He had gotten those sapphires added because he had planned on someday asking her to marry him.

Only she had found the empty box sitting on the counter, and assumed he had done so with Hannah. The ring, when she had arrived, had been missing from the box. Meaning that she wasn't the only one who had seen that little velvet box. Meaning Hannah had found it first, and had dropped that ring into the white box that sat on the floor.

He wondered, fleetingly, if Bones had seen that as well. But it seemed unlikely. She would have seen the ring if she'd actually looked through it, and she would have made some other realizations as well.

Only, Hannah seemed to have made those realizations all on her own.

"There you are," her voice was dark and biting, and he spun around, pulling himself back up to his full height with the ring in one hand and the little box in the other. She was standing in the hallway, one shoulder leaned against the wall, arms crossed. She looked… surprisingly calm. "I was wondering if you were ever going to come home. Did you think I might like to know where you were last night?"

"Hannah, I'm sorry. I just… I don't even know what's going on anymore. Bones went missing, and I've been trying to find her, and then-"

"Seeley!" she cut him off, and he stammered to a halt, blinking as he stared at her, waiting. She surveyed him for a moment, shaking her head, and then nodded towards the box on the floor. His eyes strayed to it, and then back to her. "Nice little collection of memorabilia you've got there. Does she know about all of that, by any chance? I mean, did you have it all out in the open when… what, exactly? You two were… living together?" She watched his surprised reaction and then gave a little humorless laugh. "No? Alright then, was it like… casual sex or something? And you wanted more?"

"Hannah, me and Bones never-"

"Will you stop _calling_ her that?" she snapped angrily, stepping into the room and moving towards him, not speaking again until she was only inches from his face. "I get it, okay? I _get_ it."

"I don't-"

"You don't what? Don't understand? Don't think I actually know? Seeley, you bought her a goddamn ring! And what? You thought you were just going to keep that nice box up in the closet for… forever? Because something tells me that was never in the plans. Not with me here, at least."

What the hell was he supposed to say to that? What was he supposed to do to make this better? He could lie, yeah. He could go ahead and tell her something outrageous. Maybe he could even convince her that had planned to spend the rest of his life with her. But he knew that it would all be a fabrication. None of it would be real. He wouldn't mean it… not enough, at least. And looking around now, and thinking about what he really wanted for the future, all he could think about, continuously, was how much he really wanted to be on a plane to Canada right this moment. Because he wanted to see Bones, and make sure she was alright. And he wanted to make her smile again, just like the old days.

"I'm sorry," he said, and it was the only honest thing he could come up with. He had been fooling himself if he had ever thought this was going to work out. How could it have, when Brennan was still lurking in his darkest corners, both literally and figuratively?

"Damn right you are," she whispered, stepping back. "I'm moving out," she added as she turned her back and stalked up the hallway. He almost followed her, more out of instinct than anything else, to try and talk her out of it. But something held him back. The same something that had been keeping him from saying and doing a lot of things lately. The same something that had felt relieved when he was alone in the apartment by himself.

The same something that really wished he could have told Bones he would do anything to make her happy that night when she'd been crying beside him in his car with the rain pouring out of her hair.

"You have my number," Hannah told him as she reappeared with a suitcase in tow. "In case I forgot anything."

He just stood there, the words, 'you don't have to go,' sitting on his tongue but not willing themselves to leave it. She could see it in his eyes, though, and she gave her head a sad little shake.

"This was fun," she said simply, "But I can't do it anymore. And I don't think you can either. Temperance… Temperance is a very lucky woman."

And with that, she swept out of the apartment.

He stood there, dumbstruck, until his ringing phone jerked him out of his reverie.

"Hello?" he answered, wondering how his vocal chords were even functioning.

"Booth, it's me," Angela said, an urgency to her tone. "Brennan just called me. She's in Montreal. I've got the address."

* * *

**A big thanks to everyone who is still reading and reviewing. I love you guys :)**


	7. Stars Above Our Heads

_Chapter 7: Stars Above Our Heads_

_December 31__st__, 2010_

She closed her eyes and tried very hard not to think about what she had done. She had called Angela back because she'd never gotten an answer to the question she hadn't even remembered to pose; the very reason she had picked up the phone to begin with when Angela had called earlier. She needed to know what to do, and all she had gotten from Angela had been queries as to when she was coming home, and about what was going on with Booth.

Somehow, though, in the midst of their talk, Angela had gotten her to give up the address of the apartment she was staying in. She wasn't sure what was going to come of it, but she had decided to trust her friend's judgment on the matter. When she had asked again about the ring, and what Booth had said about it, Angela had refused to answer her questions but had been very adamant about one point—it wasn't what she had thought it was.

She had no clue what that meant, and she wasn't very hopeful, but she didn't know what else to do. And trusting Angela in the past had always led to positive results.

But if Angela was going to come up here herself, she had no idea what good it would do.

That had been a good four hours ago, and now she was starting to feel the knots of fear work their way back into her stomach. If Angela was indeed coming, she would most likely be there any time now. And Brennan had no idea what to tell her, because they hadn't exactly figured things out yet for when she was coming home. All Angela had managed to do, in fact, was convince her to stay where she was for the time being.

She glanced at her clock again. Nearly five o'clock, now. Sighing softly, she gave up on the typing she'd been attempting to work on for the past hour straight. She hadn't written anything progressive in weeks… months, actually. Her publisher was annoyed, but she'd dragged out her next due date until the new year.

She tried to ignore the little date written on the corner of her computer screen, reminding her that today marked the last truly safe date she still had to herself. Once 2011 rolled around, Gina would be all over her for her next manuscript. Unwillingly, she glanced at the word document once more. Page 140 of 140. Less than halfway done; her plot was barely developed. Kathy and Andy were in a rut. Fighting all the time. Miserable together, making no progress… she didn't know what to do with them any more than she knew what to do with her own problems.

Tomorrow morning she'd probably have an email waiting for her. That was Gina, through and through.

Breathing out a slow sigh, she highlighted the single paragraph she had forced out that evening and deleted it. When the writing didn't flow, it wasn't good. And she always regretted it later on. Every time. That was the thing about being a writer… it didn't always work out. Anthropology never failed her like this. The knowledge was always there, to fall back into like an old habit that had never actually been given up. She'd never forgotten what she needed to know for identifying the important details about bones once she had them in front of her.

A knock resounded loudly on her door, and she jumped in alarm at the sudden noise in the otherwise silent room. At once her heart was pounding. She could feel her blood racing through her brain as she tried to think.

Angela. It had to be Angela.

Shakily, she got to her feet and made her way to the door. She hesitated, and then peered through the peep hole and almost cried out in shock.

Booth was standing there, shuffling his feet and running his hands through his hair.

Without thinking, she wanted, more than _anything_, to open that door and just be happy to see him. As it was, though, she wasn't capable of ignoring her immediate thoughts. Which were that she didn't know if she could handle talking to him right now. Or ever.

But he was _here_. He had come all the way from DC. To see her.

And where was Hannah? He had come to… to see _her_… just like he had on that night when he'd followed her through the rain and once more saved her life. Maybe Angela was right. Maybe that did mean something.

Her fingers shaking violently, she undid the chain and turned the doorknob. When she pulled open the door and stood in the opening, Booth took a step back, his eyes sweeping over her. Not in the way Derek had looked at her. Not at all. He looked at her like he wanted to make sure she was okay. Like he was looking for any signs that something was wrong. There was nothing but concern in his eyes when they met hers.

"Bones," he said, and the word was like a sigh of relief. "Thank God."

She had no idea what to say, so she just stood there like an idiot, silent. His relieved expression faded away and his eyes swept over her face again before he closed them and briefly pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Can I come in?" he asked finally, like he was testing the air between them.

Hesitantly she nodded. "Come on in," she said softly, finally finding her voice. At the sound, he relaxed, giving a quick smile to her as he stepped past. She couldn't force herself to smile back at him, and his fell away to be replaced by a somber expression filled with more worry lines than she remembered him having before.

He didn't look like he knew what to do, standing in the middle of her empty living room. She walked past him and sat down on the couch, and he was quick to slide into place at the other end, far enough away. The couch felt so much safer, so much warmer, when it was Booth who was there with her. Even with the silence echoing between them, she couldn't help but feel some of the old flickers of warmth from the ashes of their relationship.

God, she missed him.

"So. Canada," He said.

She bit her lip and nodded.

"Any… particular reason you chose here?"

"I had a… job offer," she managed to say. He closed his eyes for a moment, and then nodded. When he opened them again, he didn't meet her gaze, and she averted it quickly, turning to stare at the carpet.

"You're not staying, though, right?" he tried after a long moment.

Angela must have told him. Otherwise she didn't think he'd have asked. "No, I'm not," she answered finally.

He ran a hand over his face and sighed in what she could only discern must be relief.

"Do you… have any idea when you might be coming back?"

She shook her head, but when he looked somewhat defeated, she added, "But… I do want to come home."

He didn't look like he knew what to say to that, and for a long moment they just sat together in the silence.

Brennan was the one to break it. "Why are you here?" she asked, desperate to get a truthful answer.

He looked surprised by the question, but was quick to respond, "Because… I haven't been doing things right these past few weeks. These past few months, actually, but… the thing is, Bones… I miss you. And I can't do that anymore."

Her eyes watered without her consent, and she blinked away the tears as rapidly as she could, averting her eyes again. "I missed you too," she managed to whisper, her voice breaking in the middle. "Very much."

"God, I know… I know, Bones, and I'm so sorry. I just… I guess I thought I could make our problems go away, but that was never going to happen. I mean…" he smiled sadly, and gestured to her with a wave of his hand, "How could I ever forget you?"

She didn't know how to take that, so she settled for biting into her lip, hard, and not meeting his eyes. Her throat was so tight, she was having a hard time breathing.

"Where's Hannah?" she said at last, waiting for him to tell her that she was waiting at the airport or something similar. But that wasn't the response she got at all.

Instead, he winced and averted his eyes quickly before slowly beginning to answer with, "That… didn't really work out so well. In fact, it didn't work out at all." He gave a little humorless laugh, and finally met her eyes. "Hannah and I aren't together anymore," he said firmly.

At once, she was reeling backwards in alarm, chasing her thoughts between relief and horror, and trying to find a safe patch of ground to balance on as everything tipped. "So that's why you're here," she said, barely even realizing that the words, which had leapt to her mind so suddenly, had also leapt off the tip of her tongue.

"What?" he asked, and then realization swept through his eyes. "No, no!" he choked out hurriedly. "Bones, I'm not… Well, I'm here somewhat because of that, but… I was coming _anyways_. The moment I knew where you were, I was coming. To be honest, that played more of a role in the end with Hannah than Hannah played in my role towards coming here."

None of that had made any sense to her, and her face must have shown it, because his expression fell once more, and he buried his face in his hands before reaching into his pocket and extracting something. As he pulled it into view and held it up for her to see, she realized all too suddenly that it was the little ring box she had seen on the counter.

"You aren't the only one who got the wrong impression," he said softly. "This," he popped open the box, "Was never meant for Hannah. She wasn't supposed to see it. Ever."

Brennan frowned, not understanding, but her eyes couldn't seem to move from the little ring that was now snugly within the folds of the interior velvet. It was gorgeous. Gold, diamonds, and, to her surprise, sapphires. It was the most beautiful ring she had ever seen, and that was saying something, seeing as Hodgins was a billionaire and Angela had a very lovely ring worth probably an entire year of Booth's salary. Maybe even two or three.

"This was my mother's," Booth said softly, taking it out and holding it towards her. She hesitated, but when he didn't pull his hand back, she reached out and accepted it, turning the little band around in her fingers and admiring the way the light gleamed off of the precisely cut stones.

"I've had it ever since she passed away, over twenty years ago. And I never had anyone to give it to. Rebecca wouldn't take it, as you know. And to be honest, Bones… it never crossed my mind that it might go to Hannah. I think that… I think that really, my relationship with her was… I don't know. It was something. Something that made me happy, and filled in the void. But I really didn't think it would last forever, now that I'm looking back. And… clearly it didn't."

"Why?" she asked, still holding the ring.

"Why what?" he asked, frowning.

"Why did… things not work out with Hannah? If you were happy, I mean?"

He looked like he really didn't know how to answer that, and she felt her heart drop. She remembered Angela's words all too clearly, telling her that Booth needed to figure things out before it ended, and that he needed to be the one to put an end to it. From the way he was talking, it sounded like Hannah had been the one to break up with him. And she didn't know how to handle that, or even what to think about it. He had said he would still be here, with her, regardless of his relationship status with Hannah, but could that possibly be true? Surely Booth, of all people, would have found a way to sort out the issue if Hannah hadn't decided to end things.

But then, why wasn't he fighting for her? Why wasn't he working to solve things, rather than taking off to come to Canada?

A faint glimmer of hope weaved its way through her, and she waited patiently for his answer.

"She found the ring," he answered at last.

That didn't answer her question at all. In fact, it gave her a few more. Why would Hannah have broken up with him because she found a ring? She wasn't a very good judge of people, but she had thought that Hannah would want to get married. That she would have found the ring to be a positive sign of things to come. Unless she had made that assumption, and had been upset when she found out Booth had no intent to propose. Had that been what had happened?

Before she could ask, though, Booth was continuing. "You assumed it was for her… and she assumed the opposite."

"The… opposite?"

Another long silence while he seemingly debated within himself. And then he reached into his coat and pulled out what appeared to be a photo frame. Holding it so the back was towards her, he explained.

"This… this used to sit next to my bed. On my nightstand, with my clock, and my lamp, and whichever one of your books I happened to be reading or rereading at the time." _He rereads my books?_ she thought irrelevantly, and then he was turning the frame around and holding it so she could see.

Her breath caught in her throat. She'd never seen the picture before, but she remembered the day. One of the few when they had literally had no cases to work on. She'd wanted to spend the day in Limbo, identifying bodies, but he'd dragged her away from the lab and insisted on having dinner at a nicer place than the Diner. Nice enough, in fact, that it had almost felt like a date. She hadn't said anything about it, because to be quite honest, it had felt nice. Relaxing, calm… warm. They'd gone back to the lab after, at her forceful suggestion, and had ended up sitting on the fountain, staring up at the stars above their heads and laughing about pointless things. It was a day that simply epitomized the joy she used to find in spending time with Booth. It was from before… before Lauren Eames, before Hannah, before that night outside the Hoover. It was from the days she missed more than anything else. She remembered Angela showing up, but she didn't remember her having a camera. But then again, she shouldn't have been surprised.

The fact that Booth had the picture though, amazed her.

Hadn't he just said he had kept it next to his bed?

"What is this?" she choked out. Obviously it was a picture of them, but she knew he'd get the deeper meaning to her question.

"When Hannah moved in with me, I had to do some redecorating. I couldn't really leave pictures of the team, with the two of us, out in the open. So I… put them away. Because I didn't know what else to do. I mean…" he looked at the picture, a soft smile sliding easily across his face as his eyes roved over the image of their smiling faces, "Look at us," he murmured. "I didn't ever want to lose that. And yet… in a way I already was. And so I put this, and everything else, out of sight. I couldn't throw them out. I could never do that. And… that's where I put the ring as well."

His eyes were dark and serious with that last line, and she had no idea what to think of it. He didn't give her much time to dwell on it, though.

"Hannah found it all. I don't know why, and I don't know how, but I can only imagine what she thought when she first opened that box. And she wasn't wrong, either."

"I'm not sure I… understand," she said hesitantly.

He sighed, and then he met her gaze, and she couldn't look away as his brown eyes bored into her blue ones. "She thought the ring was for you."

Just like that, she couldn't breathe. _She wasn't wrong. She thought the ring was meant for you._

Her eyes fell back to the ring she was still holding, to the sapphires glimmering on the sides. She remembered, then, another occasion between the two of them.

_She stood in a long blue dress, her hair up in a neat bun. Angela had helped her with the outfit, and had assured her she looked stunning. She hadn't been able to argue after Booth saw her, his eyes sweeping over her in a way that she could only describe as pure awe. He had a goofy smile on his face when he stepped over to her, his suit crisp and his tie an equal shade of blue. Obviously Angela's doing._

_ "You look… amazing," he said, and she knew he meant every word of it. _

_ Her earrings were sapphires embedded in gold, dangling, but not too far. He reached up and caught one on the tip of his fingers, the touch, so close to her skin, sending shivers down her spine. _

_ "They match your eyes," he whispered, smiling softly before he turned himself, took her arm, and led her into the Jeffersonian ballroom._

"It was… your mother's ring," she said, and there was an unspoken question there.

"With my own little touch added," he said softly. She knew at once he meant the sapphires, and she trailed her fingertips over the smooth stones.

"You didn't… you didn't…" she couldn't get a question out, her voice wavering.

Gently, he reached out and took the ring from her grasp, sliding it back into the box and shutting it with a soft snap. Her hands, empty now, fell limply into her lap. But only a second later, he had taken one in his own, leaning towards her, his eyes dark and reassuring.

"I don't want to scare you," he said carefully. "I just want you to… understand. Hannah left because of me. Because I… I never moved on. And I was never going to. I never stopped feeling the way I do about you. I don't think that would be… _possible_. So, I don't want to push you into anything, and I don't know if I'm ready to get involved in anything so soon… but I'm here. And I'm not going anywhere ever again."

She felt like her heart was going to burst from her chest, and she couldn't seem to make herself say anything. So she just bit her lip and nodded her head rapidly, trying to convey just how much his words had impacted her. How much it meant to hear them from his lips.

After all this time... it had felt like years since they had talked like this. It felt like another lifetime entirely that they had shared companionable silences rather than the awkward ones they had so recently inhabited, and it was almost as if she didn't dare to believe that what he was saying could possibly be true. After everything that he'd done, after everything that had fallen apart between them, collapsed into unrecognizable ruin... this couldn't possibly be him trying to reconcile. Trying to find a common ground and a fresh start.

And yet, hope was fluttering within her. A part of her wanted to be angry. Furious, really. But his next words stopped the thought short.

"Can you forgive me for the past few months?" he asked hesitantly. "I know that I hurt you. And I… I don't know if I can ever make up for that. But I can promise you I won't ever do it again. I can't bear to see you hurt."

"These... these last few months," she started, and she saw the pain slice through his eyes and wrack a grimace into his features.

"These past few months have been... they've been all wrong."

But she was shaking her head, not yet accepting his words. He was sorry, yes. She could see that as clearly as she could see fractures on bones. But like the cause of those fractures, the reasoning behind all of this was unclear. She had never been good with motive. She had improved over the years, but after his betrayal... after he had turned away from her, forgotten her like a broken piece of his past that he just ignore if it meant he would _feel_ better... it had almost sent her back to square one. There had been a day when she hadn't been able to read him. And that day had nearly broken her heart.

So it was ultimately his face that started to make her realize the truth in his words. Because for the first time since they said goodbye in that airport, she could _read _him. Actually, fully, read him. She could see everything the way it had been... and she knew exactly what he wanted to hear, and what it would take to make the relief spread across his face in the form of that warm smile she missed so much. And she knew exactly what his brown eyes would look like when his expression changed... the way they would suddenly twinkle as the creases formed at their edges and his eyebrows set down low upon them while he leaned towards her.

She wanted to make him look at her like that again.

It was so close... it was up to her, really. She could choose where they went from here. She knew it, and he knew it.

Her fight of flight was having a war of its own within the depths of her brain and her heart, though. Both warring for dominance. While a good portion of her was desperate for things to be the way he was saying they were... for him to truly be sorry, for him to truly still care about her and to have never actually stopped after all this time... but then her rational side was telling her the same things that it had been telling her for years.

And it had almost never been wrong.

This relationship, with him, was something she had grown to rely on. And when it had collapsed... so had she. She had fallen apart, lost focus and interest in things that used to excite her, and she had let herself think about unrealistic things like changing the past.

History repeated itself. It was a known fact, and one she had seen again and again after her parents' departure from her life. First them, then her brother, then one foster home after the other, then Michael, then Sully, and finally, most heart-wrenchingly... Booth.

She couldn't deny that he had left her, in the most basic of ways. All those promises, all those years... the words _I'll never betray you_ floating through her mind... and none of it had mattered when she had hesitated and given the wrong answer. They'd both been wrong, but she had never once stopped caring about him. Never once fought to stay away from him. She had fought, so hard, to keep him close. Even when it wasn't in the way he wanted-or even the way she actually wanted, herself, deep down.

He'd given up on her. And goodness knew they had enough problems between them for problems to get between them again in the future. They'd get in the way countless times, no matter what Booth claimed would happen. What would happen to her, to _them_, if he didn't want to stick around should that happen? What if he changed his mind, what if he stopped caring about her? What if he... what if he left her again?

Was it really worth facing these past few months in repeat for the rest of her life, even if she knew that at least she'd made the attempt rather than walking away?

"Bones?"

His voice broke into her thoughts, soft with barely concealed fear. She met his eyes, and found that they were terrified, his face pale as he watched her, his eyes tracing over her face as if hoping to read her like a book. But he wasn't picking anything up... probably because she didn't even know, herself, how she was going to respond.

"Just... just let me think," she said carefully, taking a harsh breath that rasped down her throat and made her aware of just how constricted it had become. When had she reached the point of nearly crying, and how had she not noticed? It was no wonder Booth was so freaked out.

Everything that he had said tonight had seemed genuine. Like he truly believed it and planned to stick by it. And that _ring_. The ring that he had... planned to give to _her. _She didn't even know if she dared to think that was possible, and yet she couldn't deny that she had held it, and that she had heard nothing but honesty in his voice when he had told her what it meant.

That meant he had to have still cared, after all this time. And what of the picture, that he had stashed away because he could never throw away anything that related to her?

What was she supposed to say now? What was she supposed to tell him? Because as much as she _did_ want to be angry, she just couldn't work up the energy. It wouldn't do any good anyways, and she was tired of moving backwards-traveling further and further from the one place she wanted to be. She wanted to move forwards... maybe face down the demons that had been chasing both of them until they had answered all of their questions and could figure out what to do from there.

Sitting here, looking at him, she knew what she had to do. And maybe it wouldn't be smooth sailing. Maybe it wouldn't even work out. But what would it make her, when she was so miserable without him, if she didn't take the chance to have more than she'd ever thought possible after he was practically offering it to her on a silver platter, complete with a full-out apology?

She loved him. This was just... one thing she was going to have to do because of that.

And she wasn't going to _let_ herself regret it.

So, hesitantly, she nodded.

A slight glimpse of hope flickered across his face, and she watched his eyebrows raise as he looked at her questioningly, waiting for a more definite answer.

She gave him the best one she could offer, taking something that she had wanted for herself for so long in the process, and pushed herself across the short distance of the couch until she fell into the warmth of his arms. He gave a slight sound of surprise, and then wrapped his arms around her and crushed her into his firm chest, nestling her head into the crook of his shoulder and pressing a soft kiss to the top of her head as he held her close.

"I'll never leave you again, Bones," he murmured into her hair, and then, softly, almost like a reverent prayer, he whispered, _"Thank you."_

* * *

If someone had told him that morning that he'd be where he was, doing what he was doing, he'd never have believed them. The little café he was sitting outside of was cute and mostly unoccupied. It was just past dinner time, and most places had closed early for the New Year's celebrations that many were surely going to.

He'd never been happier to have no concrete plans for the night. Because right now, he was sitting across from Bones, watching her eat some sort of Canadian French fry thing covered in gravy. It smelled good, but it looked rather terrifying. His most recent visit to the doctor's office had been informative about just how downhill his body was going. He had wisely decided to pass, and was eating a cheese-covered pretzel. Which, on afterthought, probably wasn't too much healthier. But he couldn't bring himself to care. Nor could he seem to keep himself from periodically reaching over to snatch one of those fries when she was distracted.

She had glared at him when he had first done it, but then, as he bit into the French fry, she had just… smiled. This radiant, amused smile that he hadn't seen in what felt like years. And she had just looked at him, that smile lighting up her face as she shook her head at him before she gave a slight little laugh.

That had been all he had needed to join her, and moments later they had been laughing uproariously, only earning amused looks from the other couple sitting a few tables away, who seemed to find him and Bones just as adorable as he did. They were older, and clearly married. Maybe this was their holiday tradition, to spend New Year's at this café. Maybe it held some significance to them, just as the Diner did to him and Brennan.

It didn't matter, though.

Because it was New Year's, he was with Bones, and he felt happier than he had in months. There was nothing like this in the world. Nothing at all. Yeah, he'd been happy with Hannah… but it was a different kind of happy. The two were not interchangeable, and this happiness, the one he was living right now… was the one he would always want.

He did regret how things had ended because in many ways, he _had_ loved Hannah. And he cared about her, so he felt terrible that she felt betrayed by him. What was he supposed to do, though? She was a strong woman. A woman who could stand up on her own two feet and walk away. Bones was the same way, but… differently. She was tough—she could face things down and survive them. But she felt things, too. More deeply than she would ever admit. And she and him… they were one. A whole that was simply wrong without the other half. She'd been feeling that emptiness, he knew she had. And while he'd been attempting to bridge his gap and move past it, he hadn't been able to. He'd just fooled himself into thinking he had.

Hannah would find someone else. She'd only known him for less than a year, after all. And she had ended it, so at least that freed him from the guilt of abandoning her to go after Bones. She had made the choice herself. He could have fought her on it, could have tried to resolve the issue, but it would have been pointless.

And they could both go their separate ways now and know that it wouldn't have ended differently either way.

Brennan was talking—filling him in on some of the Limbo cases she had been working as if he had merely been on a vacation when she had been investigating them. For the moment, he was grateful that she wasn't addressing his extended absence from her life. He knew they'd get there eventually. They'd have to face down their issues, especially when they eventually got around to that question that was still hanging in the air between them.

He had asked her to try for a relationship earlier that year, and she'd turned him down.

She'd practically done the same thing to him almost three weeks ago, and he'd had to turn her down as well.

Now, though, what did that mean? The only obstacle they'd had between them all that time ago had been her decision. Once she had changed her mind and expressed her regrets about it, the only obstacle had been his relationship with Hannah. And now both of those problems were gone, and they were staring across the bridge at once another, trying to decide where to meet, and _how_.

He didn't know what she was expecting… he had no idea, in fact. Did she want a relationship with him, now? It had sounded like she did when she had broken down in his car, but that had been three weeks ago. A lot had changed between then and now.

And then there was the matter of the ring. He'd never actually planned on showing it to her. He'd just sort of hoped, after he'd had it specialized with the sapphires, that somehow, someday, a time would arrive when he could give it to her without an overwhelming level of fear that she would reject him. When she had finally understood what it meant, that the ring was indeed for her, not Hannah, there hadn't been any of what he'd been expecting. He thought she might be furious, or that she might want to run away and never want to see him again, or maybe even that she'd start lecturing him on her beliefs. But instead she had looked… astonished. And there had been a glimpse of something else, indescribable, but definitely positive, through the tears.

He had most certainly not been expecting that. And he had no idea what to make of it, either. He only knew that maybe things would be a lot easier down the line than he'd been expecting. And that made him ridiculously happy, on top of his already giddy attitude about his current situation.

When she had moved towards him, into his embrace... he'd been more relieved than words could ever say. He had never felt more safe, more at peace, than he had when her arms had wrapped around him. Her hair smelled the way it always had… a hint of berries from her shampoo, and something else that he couldn't describe as anything but purely _her_.

"What are you thinking about?" she asked, interrupting his reverie.

He blinked. He'd been spaced out, staring at a spot to the left of her head, and she had noticed. He went for the honest route. "You," he said simply.

And then, amazingly, she blushed. Just slightly, and she turned her head away to hide it, but he saw it, and he couldn't hide the reflexive grin that spread wide across his face. Temperance Brennan had just blushed because he'd told her he was thinking about her.

How had he gotten this lucky, after screwing up so terribly?

The world wouldn't have been the same if he had never met this woman. No way in hell.

"What about me?" she asked, drawing his attention once again. Trust her to ask something like that. Always wanting the details. Well, he'd be happy to share, this time.

"For one, your shampoo smells like berries."

Her eyes flew wide at that statement, and he only grinned cheekily as she stared, blinking a few times as if she truly had no way to respond to that. And then she did the typical Bones thing, and corrected him. "Actually, it's my conditioner."

He couldn't help but chuckle. "Of course it is. It smells nice, though."

"And… that's what you were thinking about?"

"Mostly," he said with a shrug, not looking to share any more than that. They could deal with those other matters he had running around in his head at a later time, when they were on more comfortable ground and their relationship had an actual solid definition to it.

She seemed to get that he didn't want to share anymore, and she didn't look bothered by that, because she simply nodded and bit into another French fry.

"What were you thinking about?" he asked thoughtfully, leaning forward over the table to dip another fry into the gravy and pop it into his mouth.

She watched the action with mild amusement, and then answered, "I was just wondering about… the future."

So, he wasn't the only one contemplating where exactly they were going to go from here.

"Tell you what, Bones," he said. "Let's not worry about any of that until the new year. Let's just… enjoy the rest of today."

"You sound like my publisher," she said with a short laugh. "But… that sounds like a good idea."

He glanced at the clock on the side of the building a few streets over that stood above the treetops. It was just before nine now. Only about three more hours left of the year. But those hours were ones he intended to enjoy to their maximum potential.

"Come on," he said suddenly, standing up and tossing the remainder of his pretzel in the nearest trash bin.

"Where are we going?" she asked in confusion as he pulled her to her feet.

"We're going for a walk," he said smoothly, grinning as he took her hand and towed her along behind him. He was thrilled when she didn't protest, and quickened her steps to fall in beside him, her hand still holding onto his.

"To where?" she questioned, her blue eyes wide and curious.

He just smiled and kept his silence, leading them down the abandoned street. They rounded a corner, enjoying the cool night air. It wasn't as cold as he'd been expecting, but the both of them were still bundled up warmly. As they took a third turn, their destination finally came into view. He mentally tried to picture the map he had looked up on her laptop while she'd been taking a quick shower earlier, and as they approached the fountain, he brought them around to the far side. She was smiling this adorable little half-smile, looking heartbreakingly gorgeous in her long coat, scarf, and hat, her hair falling down in cascades over her shoulder. Next to the water, the light from the moon reflected from above as well as off the waves and caused ripples of light to wash over her, lighting up streaks of auburn. He couldn't help but reach forward and push a loose strand behind her ear, his hand lingering on her cheek.

He watched as her breath caught in her throat and she stared at him with an unreadable expression, half-hopeful, on her face. But he removed his hand after a moment and pulled her down onto the stone that rimmed the fountain, facing the wide expanse of sky to the north.

"What are we doing?" she asked, but she didn't sound like she actually cared. She was turning to look at the fountain with a soft little smile gracing her lips, like she was happy in a way he'd never seen her before.

He pressed a finger to her lips, and pointed at the sky. She raised her head to stare up, her confused expression fading away as she just took in the gorgeous expanse above them. And then, a low, shrieking whir filled the air, and a thin line shot up over the trees from the horizon they could not see, and exploded into the first firework.

She gasped slightly in surprise, and he grinned hugely as he watched more and more of them shoot into vibrant exploding flowers in the sky. Between the two, though, he knew what was more beautiful, what he'd rather be watching. And that was her face as she broke into a huge grin, her white teeth gleaming in the light as she gave a sort of half-laugh, watching each explosion of color break the darkness above them.

"You knew where there was a show," she said in awe, turning to him.

"Well, it is New Year's. I just… looked up where the nearest one was, and found a good spot to sit."

From their right, another thin trail fired up into the sky and burst, cascading and crackling. A separate, private show, farther away but just as visible.

Brennan laughed, looking back and forth as both displays thundered through the heavens above them.

"Thank you," she murmured to him softly.

"Thank you," he answered just as seriously, and squeezed her hand. "Happy New Year's, Bones."

* * *

**A/N: We're in the home stretch, everyone. Please let me know what you thought about this chapter; I've been terrified of what you all would think of it, and I'd love some reassurance in either direction really. I'm not against editing if you all think they were terribly OOC, haha. **


	8. This is Home

**I actually forgot to update this yesterday. I can't believe I did that, but I'm sorry. Anyways, I'm sure everyone's pretty excited about tonight's new episode; the new timeslot is certainly a change, but I can handle it. At least they didn't bump it to a new day; that would have been terrible. **

**So, on with the story!**

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* * *

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_Epilogue: This is Home_

_July 12__th__, 2011_

The past few weeks had been pretty much complete chaos. Brennan was still having a hard time catching up with everything that had suddenly poured down on her. Most of it, though, was a relief.

They'd been chasing a serial killer through most of June, with the bodies piling up at an alarming rate, all of them women who had been strangled. It had been the first big case she and Booth had worked together since they'd begun dating, and he'd been unsurprisingly protective of her, testing their boundaries to the absolute limits.

He had asked her out only minutes after the fireworks from New Years had died down, and she'd found absolutely no reason to turn him down. Sure, it was sudden and it felt like she was diving into something she might not have enough control over, but she hadn't been prepared to face yet another cliff dive into the pain she'd felt before. He had promised not to do that, and had assured her that it was just an option, one she could accept at any time.

But the more she had thought about it in those few minutes, the more she had realized that she didn't _want_ to turn him down. She wanted to try for the very thing she thought she'd never get a shot at again. She hadn't missed her chance. She was getting a second one. And this time, she was going to see it through no matter what it took, or what it meant.

She and Booth would figure it out as they went; he had promised as much, and more.

And that was how it had worked, actually.

Things hadn't been completely simplistic since that night, but they were working on it.

They had stayed in Montreal for New Year's Day, but not exactly willingly. Booth had been eager to get back home, and she had as well, but the weather hadn't agreed with them. A fresh blizzard had wiped out all possibility of catching a flight, and they had stayed in the apartment, together.

Booth had been his typical self, insisting that he sleep on the couch because he didn't want to 'rush things,' but she had found that to be purely ridiculous, and had instead dragged him into the bedroom, saying that while she was perfectly happy not rushing things—she had to agree that, even though she was definitely eager to start exploring him in all new ways, doing so immediately after so much had happened probably wasn't a brilliant idea—they were both adults. And besides, it had worked out for the best. Booth apparently didn't understand the concept of staying on his own side of the bed, because she had woken up with his arms wrapped firmly around, tucking her into his chest so warmly and fully that she hadn't dared to move once she became aware of her surrounding, for fear of disturbing him.

Those were the sorts of things she had been glad to get used to.

Years ago, she would have shied away from the very idea of 'cuddling,' as Booth and Angela called it. It had never made sense to her, because the idea simply wasn't _necessary. _In fact, she had very rarely spent the full night with a man. If they came to her place, she hinted that they should leave, and if she was at theirs, she would simply climb out of their bed and gather her clothing.

It assured control of the relationship, and its definition. Mostly, she had enjoyed dating as a way to spend time with someone else, have a person to talk to that she didn't see over a dead body every day, and have a willing participant to satisfy her biological urges.

That it would evolve into any sort of romance was a concept she had only indulged in twice—with one being Michael Stires, and the other being Sully. And both of those had ended abruptly and crushingly. The first time with Michael had been because she was taking an out-of-state internship, and he had at first agreed to go on sabbatical to join her, but had changed his mind the week before, ending their relationship. The second time had been because he had betrayed her, questioned her very character and everything about herself that she actually liked in front of an open courtroom, and in front of her friends. Sully had been a bit less shocking, but equally hurtful. It had been astonishing that he had asked her to go with him on that boat to the Caribbean, but she couldn't have said yes and left everything behind. If he had understood that, maybe things would have been different. But as it was, he had made up his mind to leave with or without her. And that had hurt more than she'd been willing to admit.

So, for years, she had kept away from the very idea. Barely dating, really. And some part of her had held out hope that maybe things with Booth would work out. When he had asked her that night, though, she had been so alarmed that she hadn't known what to do. She'd panicked, not knowing if she could handle what he was asking of her, and he had ultimately said that he was going to move on because she'd turned him down.

If none of this past year had happened, she'd probably still be in that place that he'd left her in that night. But as it was, it turned out that even people who disappointed you once could come back and rescue you. They could show you that they still cared, and give you everything you'd ever dreamed of.

Which was why she now woke up every morning surrounded by his warm embrace, and why she now spent every waking moment either with him or thinking about him. This was love, pure and simple. And she wasn't ashamed to admit it. Not now, not ever again.

Angela had been right. All those years, she had been right.

And Angela herself was a large part of the reason why the past few weeks had been so busy. Between the closure of the case with the capture of their serial strangler had been the impending and worrisome truth that Angela was very close to her due date. Hodgins had practically been a wreck through the entire investigation, and Cam had finally managed to calm him somewhat by doubling security and ensuring that the guards had been informed not to let _anyone_ in the lab who did not have a pass cleared by her.

In the hours after the case had been closed, they had all gone out to the Founding Fathers together to celebrate a job well done. She and Booth had made the arrest together, despite his insistence that she stay safe back at the lab. The man, one Garrett Benton, had put up a bit of a fight when they'd knocked on his door. First diving out a side window and trying to flee up the alley, and then taking a few swings at her when she reached him before Booth. A swift kick to the gut, which slammed him into the wall with a resounding _crack_ from his skull hitting the brick, had knocked the fight right out of him, though. Booth had been furious, but she didn't have a scratch on her and he'd been forced to admit that she had handled it well, even though he would have preferred if she had stayed back.

As they had sat around with their drinks, eating off each others' plates, Angela had gave a slight, surprised, gasp. Hodgins had been all over her, and the next thing they new, she and Booth were sitting in the front of his SUV, siren on, with Hodgins and Angela in the back and the rest of the team following behind with their own vehicles.

Ten hours later, she had held her goddaughter for the first time. Amelia Temperance Hodgins, they had named her. And she was beautiful, with big wide brown eyes and black hair that looked like it was going to be curly when it grew out. Just the right mix of both of her parents' features.

Angela had been home from the hospital two days ago, and wasn't due to return to work for another few months. But she had been very insistent that Brennan spend as much time as possible visiting her.

She was fairly busy working with Booth, though. Murder didn't stop, no matter the miracles that the world seemed capable of giving them.

It had been surprising that they had been allowed to keep working together, to be honest, once their relationship was out in the open. It might have stayed away from the desks of Booth's bosses, except for Sweets, who couldn't keep his nose out of everything and who was apparently obligated to report the change in status to Cullen.

It had still been early January when they'd been called in for that fateful meeting, where Cullen had stared at them over his glasses for a solid minute before sighing and removing them, folding his hands in front of him.

"I don't know what to do with the both of you," he had said finally. "But I do have a few questions. Booth?"

"Yes?" he had answered immediately.

"Can you still work effectively with Dr. Brennan to solve cases?"

"Of course, sir."

Cullen had scowled. "A 'yes' would have done fine, Booth. Sweets will decide for certain if you're correct or not, though. You'll have mandatory weekly sessions, and if necessary, he'll follow you on your cases."

"So... we can keep working together?" she had dared to ask.

"So long as you keep bringing in murderers... yes. And it's not like I didn't think this would happen," he'd added under his breath.

For the most part, Sweets had been agreeable about the whole thing. He'd been all too eager to dig into their lives, of course, but she and Booth had been quick to set him straight. He was only going to get to ask them about their working relationship. That was it.

Somewhat miffed, he'd set about finding ways to get them to open up, avidly taking down notes each time they were in his office, up until the point when he had informed them he was writing a new book, and this time he was going to get his facts right. This one, similar to the last, was based on how personalities that seemed to be opposites were in fact compatible. He was going to call it _Chemistry: The Truth Behind the Attraction_.

In exchange for their cooperation in answering questions he had about his research, he had agreed to stay out of the field, although he still spent a good portion of time at the lab, watching them interact with the team and occasionally providing valuable insight.

He and Daisy were broken up again. For the third time that year, in fact. They seemed to be continuously on and off as of late, and Brennan was wondering how long it was really going to last. But they seemed to keep gravitating back to one another, so maybe eventually they'd find some common ground to stick to.

As for her and Booth, they'd come close several times. There had been some fights she hadn't thought she'd be able to forgive him for, and the same had applied to him about her. But they'd worked through it each and every time. It was a matter of trust, he kept telling her. And as long as they trusted each other, they could get through everything and anything. And that was why they stuck it out, through the nights where one of them slept on the couch, or the days when she simply stayed at the lab rather than coming home.

And that was why they were where they were now, she thought softly to herself, gently twisting the ring around on her finger. It was a perfect fit, and to this day she wondered if it had always been, or if Booth had secretly sized her finger in the middle of the night and gotten it adjusted. She didn't ask, though. She just wore it every day, feeling more and more like it was a part of her every time she put it on.

It was a challenge to wear on the job, so he had bought her a necklace after seeing her struggle with finding a place to put it while she was digging through remains and other unsavory evidence. Out in the field, she kept it around her neck, safely tucked under her shirt. Out of sight, but far from out of mind. And times like now, when she was just sitting in her office working on paperwork and lazing through another chapter of her latest novel, she kept it on her finger where it belonged.

The book was coming along well. She had finished the one her publisher had been bothering her about halfway through February, and it had gone on the shelves at the beginning of April. Sales were through the roof, even more so than for any of her previous books. '"Rave reviews!" Angela had announced loudly to the entire lab, waving around a page of the New York Times the day after the novel had gone public.

As Gina was fond of saying recently, Andy had gained a lot of layers. A lot more in-depth characteristics had surfaced now that he and Kathy were on their third try for a relationship. For the first time, it was one that had spanned over half the novel, rather than the usual on-and-off 'friends with benefits' concept they'd had back towards the beginning of the series.

Gina was loving it.

And this next book involved them finally tying the knot. For the first time since she'd started writing, she was starting to understand her readers on a different level. They wanted the character dynamic as much as they wanted the twists and turns of a complex murder mystery. So she was doing her best to make _both_ as realistic as possible, rather than giving all of her effort to the details of the forensics.

She remembered Booth popping into her office a week before it went live with the copy she had given him—the first one printed—and asking her to sign it with a goofy grin on his face, before he had loudly read the dedication out loud.

_"For my partner, forever and always, in every way. I couldn't have done any of this without you."_

She's struggled with the wording for ages, right up until the deadline, when Gina had been breathing down her neck for her final draft of it. From the look on his face as he had read it for the first time, though, she knew she'd gotten it right, even though she'd been concerned that it was too revealing, too... _cheesy._

The wedding was set for next April. She'd been fine with doing it soon, and so had Booth, but Angela had insisted that, as the maid of honor, she wanted to make it a perfect day that neither of them would ever forget. And so, April it was, when the cherry blossoms would be in full bloom. It was going to be an outdoor wedding, even though Brennan had insisted that she didn't care if it was in a church or not. She didn't need to believe in his religion to see that something like that would probably be important to them.

But even with that in mind, he had said that he wanted it to be an equal compromise. It would be outside in the spring, and they would be married by his priest. The rest of the details had been signed over to Angela, who had promised that she would "handle _everything_."

Of course, she had made this promise from the hospital after Brennan had broken the news to her. Booth had only proposed last week. It seemed like everything was happening so fast, when in reality it had probably been the slowest process she'd ever lived through.

Angela would certainly agree. They had held a mini party yesterday, to celebrate both the engagement and Amelia's birth, and both Russ and Max had come by. Russ had asked her, while Booth was occupied in a discussion with Hodgins and Max, if it wasn't a bit quick, seeing as she'd only been dating him for six months. Before she'd been able to answer, though, Angela had punched him none-too-lightly on the arm, and said incredulously. "Where exactly have _you_ been? They've been dating for practically six _years_ now!"

She had to admit, with all the fights they'd had over those years, and all the comments from people who had thought they were in fact dating... it was hard to disagree with her friend's statement. They hadn't been actually dating, of course, but it certainly felt like they had.

Maybe that was why she didn't actually care that it had only been six months and she was already engaged to him. That, of course, and the fact that she knew, quite irrationally, that she was going to be with him forever anyways. There was no one else that would have ever made her feel this way. No one that would have cared this deeply about her. No one she would trust so fully.

She still remembered his shock when she had actually said yes only seconds after he'd held the box out to her. She hadn't even let him ask the question, simply answering the instant he dropped onto one knee in that restaurant and held it out to her. Of course, he'd insisted on getting the question out and having her answer again, but she'd never seen him look so happy as he did in that instant.

He'd asked her, multiple times since that day, why she had been so quick to agree. She had only answered him cryptically, though, telling him that there were some things about her that he still didn't know.

One of them just happened to be that she wanted to get married. She might not have fantasized about it, or cut pictures of dresses out of magazines... but she did want to get married. She wanted that feeling, that sense of family, that sense of home existing in just a person rather than a place. And all that was already true... so who was she to turn down the idea of making it official, and declaring to the world that it was never going to change? She already knew it herself, and so did he.

"Temperance?" she looked up in surprise, and found that her door had been cracked open without her noticing, and a face was peering into her room. A hand reached up and knocked lightly on the glass just as her eyes met those of her guest.

"Hannah?" she asked in surprise, her eyebrows drawing together in surprise. She put down the pen she'd been using to sign the paperwork for the most recent case. "I... come in. Please."

She had no idea why the other woman would be here; she hadn't heard a word from her since before last Christmas, and as far as she knew, Booth hadn't been in contact with her since New Year's Eve, when she had left.

Hannah entered the room, looking somewhat self-conscious. She was wearing a light jacket and a low-cut blouse, as well as a pair of dark jeans. A camera was slung over her shoulder, and was hanging loosely on the edge of the bag that she was also wearing over the shoulder.

"I was back in town," she said, stating the obvious, "And... I thought I'd drop by and see you. Because we haven't spoken."

No, they hadn't spoken. To be quite honest, Brennan had been sure the other woman must hate her. Booth had never really divulged the exact conversation that had led to the end of his relationship with her, but he had told her the reasoning and had assured her on more than one occasion that it had been his fault, and she shouldn't worry about it.

But she had, regardless. She didn't like the idea that she might be the cause of the breakup, even if it meant she was happy with Booth now. No matter how jealous she had been of Hannah, she had liked the other woman while she had been around. She'd been nice, and she had liked Booth very much. They'd had a sort of... friendship, in a way.

After what had happened, though, she'd never expected to see her again.

"I heard about the engagement," she commented at last.

Was that what this was about? Now the one shifting uncomfortably, she removed her hand from the desk and slid it down on to her lap, wondering if this was going to be some sort of confrontation. From Hannah's demeanor, though, that didn't seem to be the case. But she couldn't be sure.

"I'm happy for you. Both of you."

Brennan's eyes went wide this time, surprise winding it's way through her. Now that was unexpected. It even sounded like she meant it, and Brennan knew for certain that if their roles were reversed... there was very little chance she would be able to sound sincere in congratulating Hannah.

"Thank you," she managed, having no clue what else to say.

"Listen, I'm sorry for coming by so suddenly. I probably should have called. But... I wanted to tell you in person. I went back to my family in California after the breakup, and then back to Afghanistan a few weeks later. I like it there better, to be honest. Call me crazy. I've thought a lot about what happened, since I left, though. And I think that... in a way, he was always yours."

"He did love you," she assured instantly, not really sure where the words had come from, but knowing they were true. Booth didn't lie about things like that, and she knew that he had been completely honest when he had said it. Where once that would have bothered her, she found that it didn't even twinge a nerve anymore. He had loved Hannah, yes. But he had also loved other woman. And now... now he loved her, and only her. He had loved her for a long time, and would continue to do so. That wasn't going to change.

Hannah smiled a sad sort of smile, like she wasn't sure if she believed her or not, but was grateful anyways. "That's nice of you, Temperance. But it's not like that. I still have no idea what went on with the two of you before I came into the picture, but whatever it was... it was a good thing. I can see that now. I should have seen it then, to be honest... but I guess sometimes even the best of us see things that aren't real, when we wish hard enough for them."

Brennan had no clue where this was leading, but she was glad that Hannah seemed to still be treating her as a friend. She didn't seem at all bitter, in fact. Just a bit sad about the whole situation. But something else about her, beyond that, seemed warmer. Maybe she really did like Afghanistan better, if that was where she had been these past six months.

"I guess what I'm trying to say," she continued, "Is that I want you to have these back."

She reached into her bag and extracted a case, opening it up to remove what appeared to be a pair of sunglasses. It took Brennan a second to recognize them, and then she gasped slightly in surprise.

Hannah gave her that same little sad smile, and held them out to her. "I never felt right about taking them, honestly. I never actually planned to keep them... I didn't even think you'd take me seriously when I asked for them. And then... when Seeley saw them, he looked so confused. Like he didn't understand why I'd be wearing something that was _yours_. And he got this look, when I said you'd given them to me. I don't know how to describe it, but it was really... disappointed, almost. Sad, really. I meant to get them back to you, but I didn't know what was going on back here after I left. But now, I guess it all works out."

She took the glasses and held them in front of her, flipping open the temple arms and running her fingers over the smooth plastic ridges.

"Thank you," she answered, raising her eyes to meet Hannah's.

The other woman smiled and nodded. "You're very welcome. They are yours after all."

She couldn't shake the feeling that Hannah was referring to more than just the glasses with that statement.

"I should get going, though," she was saying suddenly. "It was nice seeing you again. And I'm glad that Seeley's happy, and that you are, too. The both of you..." she trailed off and shook her head, as if she didn't know exactly what to say about them. "You're good together," she finally asserted before turning towards the door.

"Hannah?" Brennan said, stopping her short. The blonde turned back expectantly, and she hesitated a moment before saying, "I'm sorry." It seemed woefully short, and almost cruel, but she hoped the honesty behind it would override the other implications such a statement might hold in their situation.

"It's not anyone's fault," Hannah said, though. "And besides..." she added almost slyly, "You'd be surprised how many hot guys you'd find roaming around in the desert, doing the same thing as me. And I've met quite a few from England... I've always loved that accent."

Brennan couldn't help the laugh that bubbled up in her throat, and there was a mutual understanding in their gaze before Hannah turned and actually left the office.

Her phone rang, and she glanced down at it as it rattled across the desk. Booth, of course. It was as if he knew what had just happened, but she smiled to herself, knowing that was impossible.

She wondered if he would have wanted to see Hannah as well, or if he would prefer avoid her. It seemed that she held no ill-will towards either of them. He was going to find out that his ex had been in town, though. After all, she had the sunglasses now.

"Hi, Booth," she said, picking up the cell.

"Hey, baby," he said teasingly, and she rolled her eyes. "What are you doing right now?" he asked before she could call him out for the term.

"Paperwork, actually. That, and trying to find a good way to describe the consistency of melted human flesh for my latest chapter."

"Pleasant," he said distastefully. "Maybe I could pull you away for some lunch? That is, if I can even stomach food after you put that image in my head."

"I don't think anything could stop you from eating, Booth."

He laughed. "Thanks, Bones. Thai food sound good? And then maybe we can both look into that paperwork? I've got a stack going here that heads all the way back to the Norton case."

She gave an incredulous laugh. "The Norton case? That was _early June_, Booth!"

"Well, I've been a bit _busy_," he said, his implication clear. She blushed, and then checked pointlessly to see if anyone was looking towards her office, as if they could hear the conversation.

"And yet somehow I've managed to finish mine, and plan out an entire new book," she countered.

"I never said I was great at multi-tasking. Besides... I like to throw _all_ my effort into things once I get invested."

She bit her lip, trying to find a way to be annoyed at him. She _was_ at work, after all, something he never seemed to comprehend. This wasn't the first time he'd pulled their conversation down this road. She was almost grateful Angela wasn't around; her friend had a tendency to walk into her office at the worst of moments, and she always knew _exactly_ what they were talking about, too.

But she couldn't be annoyed, because she wanted very much to see him, and soon. At the reminder, a wave of nervous excitement washed over her.

"I'll see you shortly," she confirmed quickly, cutting off the conversation.

"Alright, Bones. I'll come pick you up in five minutes."

She hung up, thinking for a moment before she leaned back in her chair, smiling softly to herself before she slid the glasses into the top drawer of her desk. They could talk about that another day. Today... she had something else to tell him. Something she'd been waiting to share all morning.

A slight flutter of fear washed through her at the possible implications. She'd thought things were changing because of the wedding, but they were going to change anyways, regardless. It was a feeling she didn't know how to get used to, but one that was fast attaching itself to her.

And she told him, once they were sitting alone at their table in Wong Fu's. Told him everything she knew so far, which was next to nothing. And he threw his arms around her, not caring who was listening as he repeated her proclamation again and again, his eyes sparkling and his face wide with the biggest smile he'd ever given her.

He talked about getting a house for them, finding a new place to live, getting a dog, planting a garden... a long list of things for _them_, for their _family_... and she could barely breathe for the feeling that was choking its way into her throat, swelling in her chest.

Because it didn't matter where they were. What they had... any of it. The way he looked at her, the way he was holding her now, the way he was laughing and glowing, the way he rested his hand gently on her abdomen and whispered "I love you" in her ear...

That was all she needed, everything she needed.

She was already home.

_Fin._

* * *

**Thank you all for going on this journey with me; it was a thrill to write, and even more of a thrill to have such a great response. I'm hoping that you enjoyed it just as much as I did, and that maybe you'll even come back to read the other stories I've got in the works, haha. **

**Anyways, I appreciate every single one of you. Thank you.**

**~Jill**

**(PS- For my fellow Castle fans, Gina is actually a coincidence, although I think that it was largely subconscious, hehe.)  
**


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